Third Invid War: Dandelions
by General Chaos
Summary: ...A total lunar eclipse, the Red Sox defeated the Curse, and DANDELIONS HAS BEEN UPDATED AFTER TEN YEARS! The Apocalypse is coming!
1. Chapter One

**Dandelions: Chapter 1 of 9**

**November, 2044**

_You better_

_run all day, run all night_

_Keep your guilty feelings deep inside_

**--Pink Floyd**, "Run Like Hell"

Brush popped and shattered in the freezing air, tinder-dry and desiccated in the onset of winter. The source of the sounds was too big to be a deer; too clumsy, far too noisy, and the rhythm of the smashing through the woods bespoke a creature that ran on two legs, not four. It crashed closer and closer to the margin of the naked trees and undergrowth, and under the beat of footfalls, snapping branches and crushed leaves, the wheeze of tortured breathing rose steadily and insistently. Whatever it was was close to the end of its endurance.

With a final shattering crack that took off an inch-thick brittle maple branch, the source burst far into the open, oak-dotted field in what had once been the American Midwest.

The figure staggered reelingly and blindly onward, hacking from oxygen debt, too exhausted to outright run. It almost paused near a rock outcropping; but whatever it heard in the temporary silence as the crows and starlings fled made it whimper in terror and resume its stumbling exodus.

The field was approximately two hundred yards wide from woods margin to next woods margin. For five minutes, the solitary refugee dashed from tree to tree, gasping, nearing bit by agonizing bit to the other side. At the last black oak, fifteen yards from the margin, it paused, preparing for the final dash. The hooded head glanced back the way it had come in renewed fear.

Then the trees exploded.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

It was called in the terminology of the oppressed race the Enforcer; in its native tongue it was termed the Malar. To an unarmed inhabitant of the planet its race had harried nearly continuously for almost ten years, it was merely Death.

It had pursued its quarry for almost twenty miles now, since its object had had the ill grace to flee from the roundups that sent this planet's native people to work to further the pursuer's own species. Normally, the Malar would not have bothered with a solitary creature this inoffensive, but its lords had deemed that any possible extra labor was necessary, and when ordered, the Malar's pilot followed as had been the way time out of mind. The other castes did not have the initiative to search for a single body, but the pilot of the Malar had sufficiently evolved, and had comittedly sought over the miles of this alien world to fulfill its duty, even though it was not well-suited for the terrain.

The creature squealed like a trapped rabbit, then bolted. Ankles and legs already overtaxed no longer bore weight or responded to commands; a foot came down aslant on a boulder, and the ankle folded, sending the body crashing down with a scream of agony. Clutching at the damaged ankle, the refugee struggled upward in a last-ditch effort, then collapsed, sobbing in despair. Methodically, the Malar made its way across the field, the overcast of the day glinting off the dull gray of its armor, the garnet of its sensor eye fixed on the collapsed figure before it as it strode over. Eyes glazed, the prisoner watched the treaded feet step over the brown terrain toward her.

Inside the protective snout of the suit, the Malar pilot's own opaque black orbs narrowed in a clinical survey of the situation. It had traveled far afield in search of its prey, with no rapid method of getting back to its home base with its trophy. The sensor antennae at the end of its snout twitched. Most likely, it would have to call up one of the Iigiai patrols, or a Torab, even one of the Piraq units if all else failed.

While considering the possibilities, the three blunt claws the end of the unarmed arm opened, and descended toward the prone figure as a high whistle sliced the air.

The red eye exploded in a spray of fragments, the long head of the pilot inside evaporating into a mist of hydraulics, nutrients and blood that expanded outward in a fetid emerald cloud that splattered the refugee with green splotches.

Then the missile that had sailed to home detonated, and the shell that had once been the Malar burst into an incandescent cloud of flame.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda Pierson lay there, singed and in a gray void in a vacuum of no reaction.

_Maybe if I just close my eyes it'll all go away..._

She could hear shouting, but ignored it. She had endured too much for one human body to take in the past thirty-six hours, and had decided reality had heaped one too many indignity on her now.

_It wasn't fair,_ she thought ridiculously. _I'd gotten used to the idea of the Invid catching me and these idiots save me? What the hell's wrong with this picture?_

There was rapid heavy footsteps, then a gauntleted hand shaking her shoulder. After a couple of repetitions, she numbly shook her head and decided to take note. "No--" she rasped before her voice caught. "No, he didn't touch me. I don't think so." Irrational panic. "Don't let them get me!" She collapsed in a weak fit of coughing.

The heavy male baritone was compassionate. "Easy, honey, easy. You're safe. We won't let them get you."

Amanda suddenly felt herself lifted in a pair of metallic arms, then carried rapidly to the margin of the trees. She was set down, back to a trunk, and her vision reoriented to include her savior.

_Wow,_ she thought. _An actual Cyclone._

The visor of the mottled-green battlesuit turned down to look at her. "Just a second, honey, I've got to switch modes."

As she watched numbly, the suit folded away, wheels rotating down and armor peeling away, until the battlesuit was a dull-green motorcycle and a man in CVR-4 armor dismounting from it. He quickly bent down and rifled through a pack on the armor of his leg.

"My ankle..." she said.

"I know. Saw you fall. Had to wait to plug the bastard." He bent down to squat by her side. "Lieutenant Matthew Ulm, by the way." He gently grasped the shoe. "Can't take too long at it. Your friend might have had a few buddies with him." Any response she might have made was drowned out in a squawk of pain as he peeled away her shoe, exposing a swollen, blistered, and now swelling-further foot. He bent to tend to it, pushing off the helmet to take a better look.

He was about five-ten, very solidly built under the armor, and getting well into early middle age. His graying reddish hair was fading at both hairline and crown, and from the length of his whiskers he was badly in need of a shave. The blocky face was lined from too much exhaustion and fighting, but both it and the clear hazel eyes it contained looked neither cruel nor inclined to cruelty when he had more sleep than he'd apparently recently gotten.

"What made an Enforcer decide it had to go after you?" he queried, spreading ointment on some of the blisters. She whimpered. His eyes darted up, looked away.

"Bad time. Sorry hon." He probed the ankle, prompting a cry. "Dammit. I'm sorry. You've got a beaut of a sprain on the way." Cautiously, he adjusted the injured ankle, and searched through the first aid kit. "Dammit, no elastic bandage. Right, right, Miranda had her wrist fucked when the Cyc wheel fell on it. Have to wait for Kev, then. Hope he didn't get any fun surprises casing the area ." He looked up and grinned. "Hon, you look like nine miles of death served up, but anybody tell you you've got the prettiest green eyes I've seen in a face?"

The green eyes in question, unnaturally bright in contrast to the purpled hollows of her sockets, widened in leafy confusion. "Unh?" They were beginning to glaze over in shock and exhaustion.

The man called Matthew Ulm suddenly jerked up his head, freezing, then relaxed. A quiet rumble grew in volume from within the trees. Squeaking, Amanda jerked her head up, the hood falling back to reveal tangled daffodil-colored hair and a haggard but young visage. Matthew shook his head in reassurance.

"It's just Kevin, my partner. We were scouting the area; he ought to have some medical goodies for you." He gently pushed back the girl and rose as the engine roar filled the clearing. Abruptly, another Cyclone heaved into view, this one painted in olive and acid green. It braked to a jarring halt as its rider dismounted.

"Matt? You okay?"

Matthew snorted. "Barring no wash for four days, never been better. Can't say the same for our new friend here."

The cracked reflections of the bare tree branches slid across the transparent surface of the other's helmet visor as he turned to look at the figure seated by the tree. He jerked in surprise; then his light tenor said in clear surprise, "I see... What's with her, Matt?"

"Ankle. Got any Ace bandages on you? We've got to make tracks in minutes before we get more company, and I don't want the Cycs jouncing it around too much."

"Yes indeedy I do." Kevin went back over to the Cyclone, rifled around in the back for a second, before producing a first aid kit. He and Matthew squatted back down by her.

"What's the deal, Matthew?"

"Just sent another Enforcer to the big hive in the sky. Don't know if it fired off anything to any other Invid before it bit it, and I'm not gonna gamble on it."

"Enforcer? What the hell's an Enforcer doing out twenty miles from the nearest hive, Matthew?" Kevin's hands gently lifted the injured ankle, then began to unwrap the elastic as Amanda stiffened in pain.

"After her." Matthew began to carefully wrap the bandage snugly around the damaged ankle. "At least that's what it looked like."

Kevin took a hissing intake of breath, muffled through the visor. "What'd she do, blow up the hive or something? You don't find hive guards tromping out this far for one person. What's her name?"

"Haven't asked her yet." Matthew was surprisingly sheepish.

The second fighter's eyes, light blue under the protective visor, squinted in incredulity. "You haven't asked her yet?? Matt you numbskull, you go through all this and you don't even ask her?"

Matt finished wrapping the injury as tightly as he could. "Okay, wisenheimer, you ask--"

"Amanda Pierson," she managed. They looked up, having forgetten her in their exchange. "Most people call me Mandy--or at least they did--" Her face froze, the eyes looking into a vista better not thought of.

"They--they came for the town. Rounded us up--everybody--like we were cattle, made us walk..." The exhausted eyes pooled, ran over onto freckled cheeks. "The Enforcers watched us--the little kids...they shot them..." The emerald eyes widened, radiant with a terrible light. "They shot my little sister, and we couldn't even stop to pick her up..."

"Daddy lost it then. Late last night, when we stopped to rest, he shoved me into the trees, told me to run. I ran...and when I ran--I could--could hear the gun blasts behind me...my father... The Enforcer followed me--all this way..."

"'And I alone am escaped to tell thee,'" Kevin finished with soft finality.

Amanda Pierson nodded, her face contorting, and raised her hands to shield her

quiet sobs.

"What's going on?" Kevin asked softly, as Matthew took her into his arms.

Matthew's eyes were stony gray and grim. "I don't know, Kev. But I sure as

hell would love to find out."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Hush now don't you cry,_

_Wipe away the teardrops from your eyes_

_You're lying safe in bed_

_It was all a bad dream spinning through your head..._

**--Queensryche**, "Silent Lucidity"

Mandy awoke to the rattle of a shower on a corrugated tin roof. She stared in confusion for the briefest of moments, then her face froze as she remembered, choking the tears back into the black, hard place inside of her.

_There's nothing I can do anymore..._

She made the briefest of motions, then hissed in pain as she jostled the ankle. A quick glance down at her feet proved both that she was lying on a cot in a ramshackle shelter and that both of her feet were bandaged up and her ankle wrapped barely this side of gangrene. She began to tremble as she remembered how it had gotten that way, and the infinite gray hell beforehand of being prey run into the ground.

_But I'm safe. I think somebody saved me._

_Am I?_

As her sleep-dulled perception widened to include the area, she could hear footsteps, voices and activity outside the ill-fitting door. But it seemed to be friendly activity.

_Where am I?_

She vaguely remembered disconnected pictures of tipping one way and another between consciousness and unconsciousness as she was jostled on a motorcycle, her arms wrapped around the waist of a burly, kindly man--Matthew--her cheek pressed hard against the armor of his upper back in a waking dream. Another cycle riding by them....she had no idea how long it had taken or how far they had gone, but at last they had stopped, and then they had been nothing but gentle and loving darkness...

_And then here..._

Where was here? It was dark, lit only by the dark, grudging orange of a small fire in an improvised hearth and chimney made out of two fifty-year-old oil drums in a corner.

Her head flopped back onto a hard pillow, her eyes glazing over and trying not to remember too much.

An indeterminate time later, a voice rose outside the door, saying something to the effect "I'll go check on her now." Mandy rose her head toward the door as it opened, admitting a flood of pallid November daylight and a figure.

The woman pushed her beaded cornrows back, the pearly light shining momentarily on a face dark as fine ebony before she shut the door. She went over to the hearth and adjusted the air intake on it, raising the light level in the tiny little room, before pulling a homemade chair over to sit by Mandy's cot.

"Hi there, kid. Looks like you're awake." She opened a satchel and dug through it.

"Yeah..."

The woman took out a plastic container and peeled it open. Chicken-scented steam wafted out, hitting Mandy with an almost physical blow to the gut The newcomer saw the crazed look in her eyes and smiled compassionately.

"It's for you, trust me. When's the last time you've et?"

"Don't know...Two days ago..."

Her father had cooked up carrots and brown sugar, using the fat from some of the bacon in storage to fry up some pancakes for her and Grace... Suddenly, she was weeping helplessly.

The woman held her, letting her cry into her jacketed shoulder for a long time. "Hush, sweetie, it's all right, let it out..." It was several minutes before Mandy lifted her blotchy face away.

"They--they..."

"I know. Lots of us have gone through it. No wrong in feeling that sort of pain." Carefully, so as not to dislodge her grasp, she managed to bring up a tin spoon from her package and lifted the soup into Mandy's lap. The girl noticed that she winced a little from moving her right wrist, which had elastic binding it up. Though her throat was tight from emotion, the entire container was the work of only a couple minutes for Amanda to eat.

"I know your name is Amanda. Mine's Miranda Rosa Altman, call me Miranda. You're in a friendly place, which means any Invid that shows its claws around here is going to find out how many missiles a Forager can spit."

"Where's here?"

"Mmhh." Miranda's dark eyes slanted at her thoughtfully. "Since I suppose you make a hell of a shitty Simulagent--we took a blood sample while you were out, by the way--you're in what passes for the headquarters of Ulm's Elms, our little way of flipping the big middle at our friends the crab lice on steroids. You met Matthew and Kevin--Matt's the leader of the outfit. Let's say--geographically-wise we're about five or so miles from where Quincy used to be before the Invid hit it the first time around, back in '35."

"That far... I was only about eight then."

"You're eighteen?"

"Gonna be. In three months." Mandy grimly fought back the idea of what that birthday party would have been like only five days ago.

A knock on the door interrupted them, along with a vaguely familiar, diffident voice. "Uh, can I come in?"

"Yeah, Kev." Miranda took back the soup container. "You want a refill?" Amanda nodded vigorously. Miranda shuffled around inside her pack, producing a loaf of bread and a butter container as the door opened and another visitor slid in.

"Hey there," Kevin said cheerfully. "How you doing?"

Mandy stared, grief, injury and exhaustion notwithstanding.

The second man who had saved her was about in his early- to mid-twenties, about six feet even and possessed a fair, clear complexion over slightly thin, well-formed features under the last vestiges of a summer tan. Slightly waved dark hair brushed the nape of his neck and contrasted startlingly with light, gentle blue eyes. For a girl raised in a village of less than seven hundred people, he was easily the best thing she'd seen.

He slid over and snatched the bread from Miranda's hands, prompting a yelp and then a swat from her.

"Kevin! Behave! It's for her!"

A drippingly sad whipped-puppy expression crossed his face. "Mirandaaaaa--I was only going to have a bit--"

"The whole damn loaf, knowing you! You're a damn human vacuum on two feet!"

Mandy was completely oblivious, trying to see how much of his physique his olive-drab t-shirt, baggy gray denim pants and bright green jacket hinted at. What it was hinting at her she liked so far.

In mid-mock fight, Miranda caught her intent stare in his direction, rolled her eyes and sighed. Kevin followed her eyes in time to see a ferocious red tide wash up Amanda's neck and looked sheepish. He handed the bread back to Miranda, who proceeded to slice it as he sat Indian-style on the dirt floor.

He coughed. "Hi, Amanda. We--sort of met. I'm Kevin O'Shea. No rank. This isn't an official REF resistance force, so... " He shrugged. "Take it you heard about Bernard's group."

"Who didn't? We're practically within spitting distance of where the main Invid hive used to be."

Kevin nodded. "Anyway, we're an irregular group like his. Only larger. Thirty, you think, 'Randa?"

Miranda shrugged. "About. A little less. Small is fine with me."

"I remember when the entire Elms consisted of Matthew, me, Dennis, Gerald and your brother. That's small."

Miranda snorted resoundingly. "Considering how the damn regulars have been hit to death by the Invid lately, no wonder we've grown. The damned bugs can't put a pin on us as quickly."

Kevin suddenly grabbed a slice, the knife and the butter container.

"Kevin!" Miranda screeched. He gave her an evil grin, then proceeded to spread butter on the slice.

"Now now, Miranda, don't have a fit." He finished, dodging her attempts to grab the butter all the while, then proffered the result to Amanda. She took it, blushing.

"I was just going to go and help you out, here. See? She's got it, not me."

Miranda huffed in annoyance. "Kevin, you are impossible."

"That's me for you, the walking impossibility. What're you staring at?" he asked Mandy, grinning. "Eat, that, will you? I put lots of time into that."

Suddenly, Mandy was interrupted in mid-chew by a muffled voice outside, calling Kevin's name. His handsome features curdled in a resigned scowl.

"Damn, Matt needs me." He went to his feet, dusting off his rear. "Oh, duty calls. But, as a twentieth-century movie put it, Ah'll be bahk. See you in a bit, 'Randa." He slid out the door, closing it softly behind himself.

Mandy flushed again when she noted Miranda's dark eyes resting on her intent gaze on the door. Miranda sighed, and adjusted her heavy denim jacket over her olive coveralls.

"Nice to see that what you've been through hasn't put water on your libido."

"I thought he was nice," Mandy challenged, angry with embarassment and not certain what a "libido" was.

Miranda patted her pale, freckled arm with her oil-dark, callused hand, wincing as her wounded wrist was jogged.

"Oh, yeah, he is. Nice as hell, charming as the devil, even if his fingers are a bit too fast. He'd gladly give you the skin off his back if it'd save your life. Doesn't hurt that he ain't hard to lay eyes on either." She sighed wearily. "But I advise you not to get your hopes up, despite all that."

Amanda stopped chewing on her bread. "Uh...why, Miranda?"

"He's not...well, to put it this way, girl, it's not women he's interested in."

Amanda halted in midchew, as the information slowly sunk in. Somewhere, in some more refined plane of existence, one might have heard the tinkling of half-formed desires shatter to dust.

She swallowed, the bread all of a sudden tasteless. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, Amanda, but better you knew right off instead of later."

"Yeah." _I guess,_ Amanda said bitterly to herself.

Miranda sharply punctuated the sudden silence with a smack to her thigh with her good hand.

"Well, besides that, why don't we get you to some better shelter?"

"Say?"

"This is a staging area for new incomees. Since you're not an Invid plant, and I'll bet good odds along with Matthew that you're not an Invid symp either, I'm here to help you into the main compound. It's going to get damn cold by nightfall." Miranda indicated that Mandy should get up, bodily supporting the girl on her bad side. "Between my wrist and your ankle," Miranda laughed a bit, "we ought to make a functional human being."

Mandy asked, "So what happened to your wrist?" The two began an awkward hop over to the door.

"Oh, that? You know how heavy a Forager is?"

"What's that?"

"Sorry. I forget. A Forager Survival Cyclone. It's well over two hundred pounds. Which leads to my second bit."

"Yeah?" Mandy asked in interest, holding on to the older woman's shoulder.

"When you got one jacked up, first, you always make sure to make certain the jack is holding before you change the wheel. Second, never put your wrist between the ground and the wheel in case the jack doesn't hold."

Mandy giggled a little bit. Strained as it was, it had been the first laughter she had made in more than three days. Miranda shifted her hold on her to grab for the door. She muttered disparagingly. "A lousy Forager... Geez, could've been a Samson, I suppose.."

Mandy was tittering as Miranda helped her out the door into the tepid gray daylight.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Mandy woke up later that night, fully clothed, her ankle throbbing. She started, then realized she was in a clammy room dug out of the loam of the Midwest. The room was also shared by Miranda, who was snoring discreetly on another narrow cot, and a small space heater that grudgingly warmed the immediate area.

Although the place was reinforced by cinder blocks and plasteel beams, it smelt like a damp cave, which came as no surprise. The entire base for Ulm's Elms was underground. Maybe it had been started as a tornado or bomb shelter in the last century, or maybe it had all been created wholesale. Either way, it had been expanded on a great deal in the years since the Invid's return. Mandy still did not know how much, but it was large enough to hide some thirty resistance fighters and an alarming lot of Cyclones and weaponry.

Her bladder ached; gingerly, trying not to awake Miranda, she hopped over to the door curtain, trying to remember where the privies were in the area.

There were voices further down the hall. As she limped past a loosely bolted door, she could hear voices raised in heated debate inside. Almost involuntarily, she halted and had to catch herself.

"--bad development," a black male voice said inside. "From what you said the new girl told you, the Invid are apparently beginning to grab people to use for work in the farms again. So far, they haven't screwed with the population like they did the first time around, but this--"

"Bad development my ass!" a woman's voice interrupted sarcastically. "What did you call the new mecha? The hives the REF said are orbiting us? They beat the shit out of the REF forces that came back, for Chrissakes! The god-damned bugs coming back? My point is, the damned Invid existing are a bad development."

A sigh. Kevin's voice spoke up, prompting Mandy's ears to perk.

"Sherry, the point Malcolm's making is that so far the Invid was halfway passive in its new occupation. They didn't bite back until we bit first. But this..." He trailed off meaningfully.

The deep voice that Mandy identified as Matthew took up. "The fact is, as we all know, is that the REF has been hit harder and harder in the last months, and a hell of a lot of mecha and people are now out of action. Now that the civilians are being attacked--to put in in precise military terms, we're up in it to our ears."

There were a few acquisent grunts.

"So what do we do?" someone else inquired in a bass.

"Go take a piss," someone else answered. "I'm leaking at the eyeballs."

"Cute, Fred."

"You said it, Gerald, not me."

Mandy heard no more, for she was lurching up the hallway as fast as her good ankle would let her.

Through some miracle, she got there before Fred did, and he had to wait outside the door as she made use of the portable chemical toilets that passed for sanitary facilities in the place. As she left, she caught a fleeting glimpse of an ascetic face and medium-blond hair. She went back to her room, mightily embarassed and hoping nobody had noticed her listening in.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Days passed, and Amanda's ankle slowly healed until she could bear weight on it gingerly. Some six days after she had fled out of the forest, she limped down the hall, up the stairs in a pair of Miranda's old boots and back into bright daylight, wincing in pain.

There was the largest man she had ever seen, sitting beside the sunken doorway and cleaning the insides to an old-line Gallant. He looked up as she pushed up and slammed the door back to. He had blocky, carved features, bland in meditation as he lovingly greased the firing pin to the pistol. They sharpened as he squinted up at her under a mop of brown hair with an assessing gray gaze.

"Hey there. You the girl Matthew picked up?"

"Yeah."

"Gerald Wilson."

"Amanda Pierson. Are you the Gerald Kevin said was one of the original Elms?"

He nodded. He was not fat, but through sheer muscle and bone he seemed to take up much more space than he should have. His broad shoulders shrugged a bit. There was something faintly odd about the way his hair caught the weak sunlight.

"Last I checked." He snorted. "Wish he'd shut his mouth."

She sat down, gingerly, and felt the wind ruffle her now-clean and detangled fair hair. "Not to offend but what's wrong with his saying--"

Gerald grunted. "Don't like the fact being known to everyone. Especially not new people, your pardon." He made a noise. "There was--confirmation you were what said you were, so..." He shrugged. "Besides, I don't feel real comfortable about him. That bugger's slicker than greased shit, and weird to boot."

Amanda was taken aback.

"D'you mean because he's--"

"Gay? Hell yes. I'm a homophobe and damn proud of it," he stated baldly. "But at least they're human, no matter which way they swing, and they've got it too by the Invid. It isn't all that though. Something about that guy gives me bad vibes. I'd've kicked him out, except he's got a bit a hold on Fearless Leader and he and Dennis wouldn't let me." A bitter snort and a sidelong glance. "You may as well know that he and Matthew are--" He made a limp-wristed gesture that was worth a thousand words.

"Oh." she said blankly. "Matthew's... He didn't seem like the type."

Gerald sighed and resumed putting the Gallant's firing pin back in its place. "Maybe I was too harsh. Matt's an okay guy, and a helluva leader. He's put his ass on the line for me a couple times. And...I'm not exactly normal myself." He looked out into the distance between the trees in which the base was hidden. The countryside rolled a little in dried prairieland, grown back in the time since Dolza's Rain of Death and the first Invid invasion, with a few crows flapping in the distance. Somewhere, a red-tailed hawk screamed piercingly.

It was some minutes before Mandy moved again.

"Why did you--join?"

"Before my dad died he asked me to fight to make sure the Invid didn't do the same number on us again."

Mandy swallowed a bit, remembering her own. She suspected the pain would never quite go away.

"Anyway, I knew Matt from when we were both at Reflex Point. We were both there the first time the Invid left. Got to say this for the Regis: she may be the original bitch from hell, but she sure put on a show."

"I know..." Mandy said distantly.

Her mother had died the year before, so it was her father who shook her awake and practically dragged Amanda and her baby sister to their shelter. In the clear spring evening, he had seen a burst of light from the direction of Reflex Point, more than four hundred miles away. Terrified that a nuclear or neutron bomb had been detonated, he had run up to get his daughters to safety.

No sooner than they had rounded the corner of the house, it had been obvious that quite the opposite had happened.

As they watched in awe, a curl of fire blazed up from the horizon. Blindingly, the conflagration unsheathed into sheets of amber aurora as it cleared the stratosphere; a neck and head and wings of transcendent blaze. As the night turned to day, the flaming wings stroked the solar winds, and their very minds and souls reverberated with the cry as the Phoenix leaped towards a new home...

"Though to tell the truth, I didn't think he liked other guys at the time," Gerald continued bemusedly. Mandy had to shake her head before she realized he was talking about Matthew.

"Guess it goes to show you never can judge people by appearance," she murmured, half to herself.

Gerald snorted and snapped the pistol closed. "You telling me?" He stood up, seeming to block out the light. He was even bigger standing, near seven feet tall and with biceps thicker than Amanda's thighs. The gray eyes looked down at the girl with veiled irony.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Any damn thing you like." He flipped the Gallant and turned toward the bunker entrance. He hesitated.

"Some of us may take a trip to see if we can find any relatives of yours in the next few days. This is, to be blunt, kid, an establishment to kick crabs' asses, not a RGF refugee station. The crabs have been on our cases recently, and we can't get pinned down, or we're dead. This place might get hit at any time, and you don't want to be here when it is. So..." He opened the door. "I'll see you in an hour. Malcolm's going to have dinner done by then." The door shut with a premptory click.

Mandy glared at it, her leaf-green eyes hardening to something like emerald as she did.

"That jerk," she said angrily, when she thought he was out of earshot. Helplessly, as they had so many times over the past few days, the tears began to leak out again. Why did she never run dry of them?.... "I know damn well I have no relatives. He just wants me out of here."

She swallowed tightly. She had to admit she was a bit of a deadweight, having no experience of weapons, weaponry, or mecha. As she currently was, she was a liability, not an asset. Cold logic stated the truth of Wilson's statement, no matter how callously put.

She ought to do what he suggested and find a nice farming community somewhere, get hired as cleaning help or a hired worker. But which would be the next place to hear the tread of Invid Enforcers in its streets? And the next time, she wouldn't be so lucky. Her father's sacrifice and her sister's murder would have meant nothing.

And she kept remembering the care of Matthew as he lifted her in the arms of his battlesuit, and Miranda's calm compassionate dark face...

They might be dead the next time she heard of them. So would be more of herself.

"Well," she said to the chilly wind, "looks like I'm going to have to learn to be an Elm real quick."

**Three and a half months later, 2045**

The attack siren screamed like a damned soul, propelling Amanda out of her cot and onto the floor of the room she shared with Miranda and Corporal Shiroikiku Doi.

"Oh Christ!" Miranda screamed to confirm her fears. "We're being hit!"

Even as she hurtled out the door, carrying her worldly goods in one tiny canvas bag, Amanda was still zipping up her field coveralls, REF issue that Matthew Ulm and Dennis Zinnert had procured for the Elms.

"How many?"

Miranda dashed with her, exchanging heated information in the chaos over the tac net. "Shitloads. At least ten clams, two linebackers. Somebody doesn't like us."

Ten or more Attack Scouts and two Combat Troopers. God help them.

Since 2043, new and deadlier types of Invid mecha had appeared on Earth, all but eclipsing the older, more predictable versions that had come before them. The Attack Scouts and Combat Troopers had come from the common Invid Scout and Shock Trooper. They were the bane of every resistance group--those that survived to relate them to the rest, that was.

Mandy gritted her teeth, stiffening her ankle as they turned a corner. It had never been quite the same since the injury; Miranda had said the ligaments in her ankle had been permanently loosened. The damn thing was always trying to re-injure itself, and right now would be the kiss of death.

Tiny Sherry Doi shouted to Miranda, "Get to the staging area! Kevin and Matt are saying that if this place goes, we're going to remove what mecha we can." The diminutive Oriental woman led the way, her legs pumping, as the other two followed in her wake.

The tunnel branched into a warren-like tangled nightmare, dimly lit by flickering halogen lights, slippery in some places, damp and cold as a corpse. Over the pounding of their footfalls, the klaxon howled. It reminded Amanda not so much of Hell as the countless other times the town siren had screamed upon an impending Invid attack or enslavement attempt. After they had left, the officials had turned it off. It was the worst mistake they had ever made...

Although Hell was making a very close second.

The staging area suddenly opened before them, filled with ranks of Cyclones flickering in ancient flourescent lights. Suddenly, an explosion shook the place, nearly knocking them off their feet. Through the dust cracking from the loosened foundations, they could see the dim forms of Lieutenant Ulm and Kevin O'Shea stagger.

Shiroikiku was the first to regain her balance, and her compact figure bolted across to the two men. Ulm shoved what looked to be a bundle of CVR armor into her hands, and she was already half equipped by the time the other two women made it across.

Amanda felt a blow to her ribcage and blinked when she saw she was also grasping armor, CVR-4 type from the look of it.

"Put it on!" Kevin screamed at her. He was already fully armored except for the helmet. The flickering of the lights gave him a nightmarish strobe effect as it flared across the metal of his chestpiece. The tan had worn off during the winter and he looked dead-white in the unhealthy illumination. Mandy could see a bead of sweat drip off his nose.

"What?"

"Get it on!" he repeated. He grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes wild. "Those were annihilation discs that just hit us. It's minutes before this place goes. You've got to get as much of the mecha out as you can before it does! Got me?"

She nodded frantically.

"Dammit. Hoped to give you a better combat situation than this." Black hair flying, he pivoted and began to slam more armor into arrivals as they came.

Amanda quickly learned that armoring oneself in war was quite different from when in a quiet situation, especially when your hands were slick with terror, somebody had just told you the base's days were numbered, and two more explosions slammed into another segment of the base as you did so. Somehow, she managed, most likely thanks to the private timing sessions Kevin had given her.

Ulm started up his Super Saber. "Fred, Kev, Sherry, Gerald, you're going to help me and Dennis cover everybody else's butts as we get this crap out. Everyone else, get as much garbage as you can and take it with you. GO!"

"Shit," Amanda could hear Frederick Bohms mutter.

"Take the Forager!" Miranda shouted. She half pushed the Cyclone at Amanda, who numbly took it, and the old-line H-90 Mars Gallant slapped into her hands so hard it stung. She helped load various pieces of equipment into the carrier attached to the back and shoved the pack in as an afterthought.

"Whatever you do, girl, keep it on fusion! Use protoculture in this situation and you're dead!"

"I know! I know!" Mandy screamed back.

"That way!" Kevin pointed, "Emergency exit. Hopefully the Invid haven't found it yet."

Wheeling the cycles, they dashed toward the narrow exit, Miranda's brother Malcolm manhandling the door open.

Within was little more than a propped dirt tunnel barely lit by phosphorescent tape and small incandescent bulbs. It forced them to go one by one, Miranda first, Amanda close behind, the rest coming up as they shoved the mecha through. It was a matter of seconds, it was an eternity; Amanda could not tell, although later she assumed over a quarter mile of darkness, stench of fear, sweat, grunts, prayers, and explosions from where they had come.

Strangely, at one of the latter Miranda perked up.

"Sounds like your basic Cyc missile to me, not an Invid one or an anni disc. They must've gotten out and are decoying 'em," she whispered.

Then, there was another heavy metal door.

Malcolm dashed foward, revealed a small panel, and pressed a sequence in. He then shoved the door open, letting in a blast of frigid but fresh March air. Moaning, they began to pile out into the predawn night. Miranda began to count heads.

"I've gotta help the others," he said.

"Be careful," his sister returned. Nodding his helmeted head, he started the engine and ran his Battler back toward the main bunker. A flare from that direction momentarily blinded them.

"Shouldn't we--" one of the others spoke up.

Miranda shook her head. "No. This is just to make sure we get out alive. The more we fight at this stage, the better our chances of getting killed. Tatically, the bugs have us by the short hairs." Her eyes, black under the visor, were emotionless. "We have no base anymore. Okay, Salwicki, Walters, Chen, Dalby--where's Dalby? And Heisner?"

"What do you mean, we have no--" Mandy began.

Night turned into day, an orange, sick sun sprouting, consuming trees under which the base had once been. Silhouetted against it, Amanda could make out outlines that bore nothing in relationship to anything on this earth, that she had only seen in the extreme distance over the past couple months. Combat Troopers. There were far smaller dots darting against the conflagration, that bore the outline of Battloid Cyclones, spitting missiles.

"They took care of it for us." Miranda noted laconically.

"Blume was still in there," Salwicki said quietly. Evan Blume had been wounded on a raid three weeks ago, and had been recuperating in what passed for their medic ward.

Miranda's face stilled, and she mouthed a curse, as she bowed her head. Amanda swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

"Hear o Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One." Miranda said softly. There were assenting murmurs. "That was in case he didn't get the She'ma Ysorel out in time." Blume had been a practicing Conservative Jew. She stirred. "But I know Dalby got out. Where'd she--"

There was a horrific, animal scream, suddenly cut short in a liquid gurgle. Amanda whirled, suddenly knocked down in the ensuing panic, as CVR-clad resistance fled.

"Oh, God!" she choked.

The bisected remains of Henrietta Dalby dropped five feet to land heavily on the ground, where her brown eyes stared glassily. Her blood followed, dribbling from the arching claws that loomed above her.

It was black in the night, save where the bloody orange flames from the crater touched it. The single red sensor of the Attack Scout stared blankly down at them, then it moved a step foward, insectile legs jointing strangely. Another chorus of shouts from where the rest had fled heralded the presence of another.

"Shit," Miranda moaned. "They've boxed us in. They knew."

Amanda paid them no note, her eyes fixed on the black silhouette of the Scout. In a fasincated sort of horror, she reviewed the final seconds of her life from on her behind. The sensor eye of the Invid glared down at her in mindless aminosity, then it took another step foward. Mandy knew full well than in a matter of a minute she would be joining Henrietta in whatever place it was that agnostic resistance fighters went, thanks to those bloody claws.

She realized she still had the Gallant clutched in one slick hand.

"Sure, I can teach you," Kevin had said. "Heaven knows I don't want Gerry tossing you out on your ear because you can't fight. But keep in mind--Matt said no actual p-fire. We can't attract the Invid."

"Which means I--"

"Have to pretend."

The claws began to drop.

This wasn't pretend.

Mandy breathed in, breathed out, tried to ignore the descending blades over her head, She sighted the Gallant on that spot of glowing red, and pressed the trigger.

A dazzling blast caused images to go off in her retinas. She caught a fragmented image of the eye literally exploding in ruby shards and green blood before she threw up an arm to protect her eyes. She felt a sudden pain along one cheek, and more portions began to smart. She had not thought to put down her visor.

The Scout began to topple onto her, and Amanda barely managed to roll out of the way before the mecha collapsed where she had been, fluid leaking out of its shattered eye. She caught a clear, disconnected image of the claws that had killed Henrietta jerking in tune to whatever firings there were in what remained of the pilot's brain. The image was fighting with the knowledge that there was at least one other Scout back there preparing to cut down the rest of the Elms.

She pivoted; there was the second clam, slashing its claws at the others. Apparently, the Scouts had relied on surprise to eliminate the refugees; Henrietta's last scream had prevented that, and the Invid pilot's limited intellect was unable to come up with a new strategy. It looked as though it were trying to kill what it could and then confine the rest until its fellows or the Combat Troopers came to finish the job. Every time one of the Elms tried to bolt, the claws would whip down, and addled with fright, the fighter would abort it. The sudden ambush had thrown them into complete disarray, but Amanda could make out shufflings that looked like Gallants being pulled. Whether they would take care of the Scout before it called the Combat Troopers was another matter. Swallowing, she took aim again, but the adrenalin had kicked in, and the shot was going to go wild...

The Scout exploded.

The Elms managed to hit the dirt as searing pieces of ceramic alloy rained onto them. Something wih rockets blazing set down a moment later, then another. The wreck was eclipsed by a dark form as Amanda sat, staring blankly. Her shoulder was suddenly shaken, and she started with a sharp cry.

"Mandy! You okay?"

Shiroikiku's face came into her field of vision, hidden by the Battloid visor of her Cyclone. The other woman peered closer at her, then mouthed a curse.

"Jesus Christ and Kwannon! Look at your face! It's all blood!" The tiny gold ankh that studded Sherry's right nostril flared with light as she spoke.

"What?" Mandy realized belatedly that the stinging had not gone away. She put up a hand and realized there was a wet stickiness there.

"I think the eye bits of the clam I killed sliced my face," she said blankly. "What happened?"

"We took care of the linebackers. A few good GR-215s in the right spots, and _ptewh-_-no more Troopers. Look, you've got to take care of that or you're gonna look like Tony Montana for life. You did WHAT?"

"I offed a Scout. I think." Sherry whistled.

"Give you a gold star." Sherry dragged her to her feet. "We've got to get what we can from what's left, bury the dead, and get out of here before daylight. No way we're going to let the crabs have another shot at us."

Amanda nodded, then began to shake.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Two miles away, a silhouette stood, defined only by the half-set constellation of Orion, the Dog Star, and a sliver of last-quarter moon in the east. The general outline was humanoid, but some three times larger, and metallic.

A red sensor array between the metal giant's shoulders whirred and focused on the glowing spot in the distance.

Inside, a gloved hand dropped on a ceramic-clad thigh in frustration.

The plan had been to drive the humans out, then keep enough alive--for a time, at any rate--in order to ferret from them information on such establishments and find an effective method to put them down in the future. The humans' expeditionary force (curse them!) was being largely taken care of at this point and was a known quantity. But the small resistance groups...they had made the occupation difficult with their damnable secrecy.

It was a cause for nervousness.

It had been an airtight plan, originally--ambush them at near Earth-dawn, when they would be at their most addled and sleep-ridden, drive them out with a few carefully placed annihilation discs, then a quick capture and a look down to see the kind of warren in which rats lived.

But something had tipped them off...

Now the squadron had been cut to pieces, the humans were free and the battloid's occupant dare not go after them...it had to look like an isolated attack, not coordinated. With this catastrophic failure, she would be very lucky if her superiors didn not devolve her...

The Invid had no swear words as other races knew them, not having until recently evolved life-forms that needed them. But the pilot made a very fair try at one as the rockets on the Gamun roared to life and it soared towards the stars.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

To the east, unknowing of the Invid Assault Battloid, the exhausted remnants of the Elms buried their five dead, gathered what food they could from their emergency cache off from the base, and began a convoy to the southeast, running on fusion, beaten but not broken.

Frederick Bohms looked up to the greying sky, his gold-blond hair blowing in the hot breeze blowing from the remnants of the base, his bony, saturinely handsome face planed in the weak glow from the still-blazingly hot crater.

Even with the onset of dawn, one could still see stars, cold and far in the late-winter sky. There were other spots up there, bright as stars, but unwinking and slowly moving against the background. They were not stars.

Bohms stared up at them, his face tightening into an expression that nobody else saw.

It was of raw hatred.


	2. Chapter Two

**Dandelions: Chapter 2 of 9**

**Mid-March, 2045 **

Two weeks ago, they had been a thriving band of resistance fighters. Now they were merely refugees.

There were only ten of them left now: after the destruction of the Quincy base, two had become deathly ill from pneumonia after an unexpected plunge into a creek and had to be left in a village to recuperate, others had to stop at towns on the way because of illness, and still others had deserted in the middle of the night, going back to wherever their homes were. Neither Ulm nor Dennis Zinnert made an effort to stop them, but they did leave them only the early-line Cyclones to take. The rest were closely guarded by either Ulm, Zinnert, Wilson, or O'Shea. The other mecha had been gleaned from the REF Icarus Mission that Second Lieutenant Dennis Zinnert, a Jupiter survivor, had met with, and were extremely difficult to find.

Travel had proceeded at a crawl. They had decided to go eastward for no good reason other than it was the direction they had started travel in; one of those days, they harbored a hope that they could find another spot in which to restart the Elms. The hope was growing thinner by the day; the attack had cracked morale and was part of the reason why they were now only ten.

The tenth they had picked up on the way. She was a slim girl with ivory skin, blazing red hair and amber eyes. She also had a dazzling ability with weaponry, which she said she'd gotten from a survivor of the Jupiter Group. It had saved their lives when they had been ambushed by a trio of Attack Scouts. Suddenly, she'd been there, accounting for two with Annie Oakley-like precision and leaving the third for Fred to pick off. After the obligatory blood screening, they had let her in. It was not as though there was much left for her to betray if she'd been a spy. Besides, Gwendolyn Rutherford was one more gun in a contingent that desperately needed them.

Many of the rest were too ill to fight well. Amanda Pierson was amongst them.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Even more than thirty years after the fact, dust thrown up in the Rain of Death still floated in the Earth's atmosphere, rebolstered by both Invid invasions and to a lesser degree by the Robotech Masters. All this contributed to a climate still frigid within days of the technical beginning of spring, due to a cold snap. Snow had just fallen a couple of days before and the ice had resolidified after an early thaw.

Out on a river, a figure knelt, fixing a line through a hole just chipped through the three-inch-thick ice. Finally, it was completed to satisfaction, and he rocked back on a stool. His breath came out in a pale cloud as he surveyed his surroundings.

"Ecch," Kevin O'Shea muttered. "Cold as me mother's heart, it is." He could barely see out of his hood, thanks to the fur lining it. What little of his face emerged was pinched with cold. He rubbed his nose for a second, making certain it was all there.

He felt a vibration on the ice. "Watch it. You'll scare the fish, you--oh, Matthew!" The formerly guarded pale blue eyes lit up as he turned his head and saw the stocky figure of Lieutenant Ulm, similarly bundled against the cold.

"Hey there. How're you doing?"

"Pretty good, all things considering. Stupid hole took me almost half an hour to chip out. Hope you were right about this being a good perch stream."

"Positive." The lieutenant's bearded face parted in a chuckle. "Didn't you learn anything from the fishing trip back in '39?" Ulm chided. O'Shea snorted.

"Me? I slept. Most boring two weeks of my life. And that's saying something, mon freur." Ulm snorted and pushed at the younger man. Kevin shoved back and then leaned against his leg, letting out a deep sigh.

He opened his eyes again. squinting against the glare of the ice. "How's she doing?"

Ulm's voice dropped. "Fairly well, considering. Miranda shoves more antibiotics down her throat every two hours. Poor girl's so weak she can't walk more than ten yards. I doubt it'll become pneumonia, though."

"I hope not," Kevin said bitterly. "I'm damn near the only sound one left. We wouldn't put up a fight for a retarded Scout." Behind him, Kevin could hear Ulm snuffle. The Elms leader had had a cold for the past week. Kevin had been kept up nights hearing his incessant sneezing.

Matthew's voice was thoughtful. "You like Mandy, don't you?"

Kevin grunted something affirmative.

"Don't like her too much," Ulm warned.

Kevin barked laughter, which bounced off the ice in bitter echoes. His eyes were fixed on the line and the hole in the ice. "Oh, come on! Are you that jealous? It's not like I... Look, if we don't find a decent place to stay in a couple of days, it's going to be a completely moot point." He chafed his half-frozen face. "Like it or not, that attack crippled us."

Matthew crouched down by him. "I know. Saw exactly the same thing in a larger scale with the Southern Cross Army. Idiot Leonard didn't leave enough to defend Earth with after all was said and done."

"Any hope for us? Can we find a town that'll suffer us or some old ruin to shelter us, Matt? I'm really wondering."

Ulm inhaled, then started to sneeze again, while his companion rolled his eyes up to the brutal cerulean heavens. When Ulm had gotten it under control, he continued, "Sure, I hope. It's kept me alive through four invasions and the holocaust. When you despair, you die. Enough said."

"You're so optimistic sometimes it's disgusting."

Ulm grinned.

Kevin's eyes went back to the hole, then popped open as he saw a sharp, telltale jerk. In the next moment his nimble hands were on the line and tugging away, while Matthew occupied himself with reeling it in. In a minute, they produced a fat, sluggish fish that flopped freezing water onto Kevin's pale, exultant face.

"Peerrrrrcchh!" he yodeled.

"Told you so," Ulm drawled.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Have some more, sweetie." Miranda said coaxingly.

"I hate that stuff," Amanda managed to wheeze, then barked a deep, liquid cough, trying to clear her lungs. "Tastes like hell." She slumped further into the bag, shivering despite the presence of the heater a scant two feet away. She had an impression one of the tortures of hell was either catching bronchitis in the first place or the medication used to fight it. Her throat felt like a cheese grater had been taken to it.

Miranda's incessant solicitude came close too.

"Well, you've got to take it so you don't get any secondary infections. Pneumonia is nothing to play with, Amanda."

Amanda shuddered but grudgingly took the syrup she proffered, making a horrific face as she swallowed. She looked up at Miranda, her viridian eyes bright with misery and her freckles standing out sharply against the chalkiness of her skin even in the dimness of the tent. Unthinkingly, she reached up and fingered the stitched wound on her left cheek. Unlike the rest of her, it and the smaller cuts were doing nicely and healing with a minimum of fuss, although Matthew's diagnosis had been that she would carry a scar for the rest of her life.

"Now what?"

"Here's some pills for the congestion." Mandy groaned.

"D'you think we'll try and make some more miles tomorrow?" she asked, shuddering. The last time had been two days ago, when the illness was setting in, and was not among her fondest memories. Miranda's full lips narrowed in thought, then she shrugged.

"Probably. I don't know. We can't stay in one spot too long, or so Matt tells us. Might attract unwelcome attention among the locals, or to the locals, if you know what I mean. Still a lot of Invid symps out there."

"Why are we still going east?" Mandy tugged up the bag, ignoring the proffered pills. "If we keep this up, we'll end up in Reflex Point."

"Where Reflex Point was. There's not much left there now. Few hives but that's it, Mandy. Whoever's or whatever's running this occupation is up in those orbiting hives. Besides, If there's anything that was following us, it might get thrown off if we go in the direction least expected. Trust what Matt and Dennis is doing." When there was a lapse in Amanda's concentration, the other woman shoved a pill between her lips. Outraged, Amanda swallowed it. Grudgingly, she took the second pill the older resistance fighter offered and a drink of water to wash it down.

"Besides, Dennis tells me that out that way is a Protected Zone from the SCA days. Entire area was hit during Dolza's Rain of Death."

"We're going there?" As a child of the post-Rain period, Mandy had had it drummed into her from infancy never to go in certain areas because of the lingering radiation of the countless blasts of the wars and of the Rain. She was appalled. "What's wonderful about dying from cancer?"

Miranda snorted. "Dennis' guess is that the background radioactivity has died down by now. It's been thirty years, mind you, and the radiation had a short half-life. It should be safe." She grunted as a followup note. "Besides, I never trusted anything the SCA said after finding out the entire bit about the Macross mounds being radioactive was a bureaucratic mixup. Maybe all this time..." She trailed off.

Mandy went into some more experimental, futile hacking. After coughing, she noted, "D'you mean there might be a place to start again?" She blinked woozily.

"Out there? Maybe. I hope so. Plus weaponry, goods left behind, who knows? We've got little to lose at this point."

A scratch came from the tent flap. Kevin poked his hooded head in, letting in a gust that forced Mandy to wrap the bag around her more tightly. He eased inside, sealing the entrance behind himself.

"Just caught dinner. Malcolm's cooking it right now."

"What is it?" Miranda asked.

"Fish. Few perches, plus a rabbit our new friend Gwen got."

_Fish. Fresh fish, warm, **salty**, hot fish.._. Mandy shuddered in horror as her raw throat lived through the idea.

"How're you doing?" Kevin asked, taking his hood down to run fingers through his unwashed hair with a grimace.

"Fish. My throat will curse you." Amanda made a face at him. He looked contrite.

"I've got some anaesthetic for it," Miranda supplied helpfully. Mandy gave her a dirty look.

"Any more medicine and I'm going to bleed it." Mandy shrugged however.

"Malcolm's cooking. I can bully him into making it bland for you." Miranda's brother, younger by three years, was the de facto chef of the Elms and liked it that way. Unlike many millitary cooks, he could actually make good food, a point of great pride to him.

Mandy shuddered. She privately thought that even water would have gone down like sandpaper.

"You have to eat. Keep up your strength." Kevin nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah. Matt swears by fresh fish. Of course, this is a man who thinks Nirvana is a hundred pound test line." He snickered privately.

Mandy subsided into her pillow, blinking in exhaustion. She coughed again, too tired to do else except accept the medicine Miranda gave her with a little nod. Miranda then slithered out the tent entrance, on her personal agenda to browbeat her brother.

"I wish people would quit drafting in all this cold," she chattered, muttering querulously.

"Sorry about that," Kevin sighed, rubbing his hands against the heater. "You've got the best heater, like it or not. Then again, you're one of the sickest." After getting the feeling back to extremities to his satisfaction, the Elms scout sat by her, feeling her brow. "Ye gods, you're hotter than six-alarm chili."

"Knew it was going to be a doozy when I almost fell off the Cyc a couple days ago. What'd you expect?" Kevin chuckled.

"Yeah. I got to ride it and carry you. I miss my Forager," he added a bit wistfully. Kevin's favorite mecha had been a casualty of the Invid attack back at Quincy. He had been forced in the heat of the moment to take the only Ferret instead. While a more heavily armed mecha, as well as a much faster one, he still had not properly adjusted to it. The Forager was one of the most easily maintainable pieces of Terran Robotechnology around. Kevin, as a self-described mechanical moron, had liked that more than arms or speed.

Amanda sighed, not entirely in weariness. Even after more than three months, the sour taste of thwartedness was still there. The comforting, casual touch heightened it as well as soothed her aching, fevered head.

_Lieutenant, you're such a lucky scum..._

"When I get better...D'you think I could get a little more practice in? I still think that Scout was a fluke. Plus, I'm not certain if I'm comfortable with the idea of shifting modes on the Cyc yet. And you said that being able to do it on a cinch and navigate it was important."

"It is. It's vital. This isn't the place or time to do it though. And you're not up to it. But I don't," he paused, "think the Scout was a fluke. I knew what I was doing, to be conceited here."

Mandy sighed again. "I'm gonna get you sick if you stick around."

"Naaaaah. Positive you won't. Legendary O'Shea constitution. Great-Aunt Fiona lived to eighty. Through the Rain too. Nice knack."

"Sherry's hacking her lungs out and she said she hadn't gotten sick since she was eight."

"Them's the breaks. But what the hell? I can stay here until Malcolm's done with dinner. Shouldn't be more than twenty minutes, and I can take yours back to you. Want to hear how my day was? I know how yours went." He rolled his eyes theatrically.

Mandy gave a wheezing giggle, then let him segue into his story, tired and relieved.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Hold the salt on Mandy's," Miranda suggested.

Malcolm Jones Altman grunted abstractedly, his eyes fixed on the hissing skillet over the small campfire. In it was some rabbit meat and a fillet that had two hours ago comprised part of the perch Kevin had caught.

"Like we have any seasonings left," he grumbled after a minute, flipping the fish. "But yeah, your highness." He grinned and dodged his elder sister's swat. Proceeding to ignore her, he stared into the fire, blunt fingers scraping the kinky stubble he had finally let grow on his chin. Malcolm often suffered from razor bumps, one of the great curses of the male of African descent, and without a decent razor he did not feel the frigid air tormenting his face was worth the trouble of being clean-shaven. After a second, he considered, carefully opened a sealed plastic container, and sprinkled some of his dwindling supply of dried parsley on the browning fillet. He lifted his face and studied the three people across the fire, some ten feet away.

Matthew and Dennis were in conference with the newest member of the depleted Elms, sitting on two felled logs, their breath steaming into the air. They were deep in conversation.

"...As we see it, there's growing indications that the Invid seem to be doing a concerted crackdown on both the organized resistance and on settled towns and enslaving the civilian population for work. We told you about what happened to the Quincy base, and about the refugee we got some months ago. Her arrival was the first unsettling indication, and the attack was just icing on the cake. With what you say happened to Cairo, and Paducah...." Matthew's voice trailed off into a silence that said more eloquently of the carnage envisioned than any mere noise could.

The slender, strong hands, muffled by heavy wool gloves, wrung a moment. Their owner looked over both at Matt and then at Dennis. The second-in-command of the Elms was silent, his brown eyes moving from Lieutenant to woman and then took them both in.

"I did say that," Gwen Rutherford confirmed in a lazy Kentucky drawl. "The bugs came for 'em one day, and the Enforcers started roundin' up the populace. Naturally, the resistance came to rescue them, and they were pounded into roadkill." Her formerly unaffected voice paused. "At least, this time they didn't kill the kids like your girl said happened to hers."

Dennis paused. "So they captured both towns?"

"Most of them, yeah, honey. The resistance did mess em' up enough that some of both managed to escape. But those Terminators--," by which she meant the Invid Sentinel, a near constant bodyguard to the Enforcer, "did for 'em right enough before the linebackers moved in."

Dennis sighed, rubbed at his eyes, then looked back up. He was one of those sorts whose appearance was average to the point of invisibility, but those blue-shadowed, creased brown eyes had looked on the landscapes of half-a-dozen worlds. Matthew had never even left Earth.

"Wish I could say that was done out of mercy, Gwen, but I have a bad suspicion the children were taken as ransom and a blackmail to keep the parents obedient. That's just what the Invid Regent did on Karbarra to the native people there."

Gwen's pale, oval face with its large, almost exotically slanted amber eyes twitched. "Yeah, I figured that was it, although I didn't need no big horned bears to remind me." Zinnert ignored the dig. "I dropped some pretty important information to the surviving resistance on how to get 'em out of the farms and hives, though." A slow, slightly self-satisfied smile crossed her face. "Wouldn't ya know, it worked for Cairo at least. Still figuring out how they'd get Paducah without hurting the kids before I left."

Matthew's eyebrows rose. "Oh? How do you know?" His lips narrowed.

"Needn't give me dirty looks, leader-man. I'm not a symp any more than you are. I was prisoner on a protoculture farm and then in a hive near the end of the last war. Got me up close and personal to the ugly suckers." A shadow crossed her face. "Still remember too much."

Matthew reached out and patted her hand. "Experimentation?"

"Yeah. Sort of. They took blood and skin samples, but nothin' else. I know I'm among the lucky." Matthew looked mollified, although a trace of suspicion lingered on Dennis' face.

"Well, at least we know enough to expect some nasty things in the near future." He sighed. "We're not exactly in the shape to do anything at the moment, but we need to keep low."

"Continue east?" Ulm asked.

Zinnert nodded. "And go a bit north. We need to avoid open roads like the plague, and keep everything on fusion. Using snares instead of the Gallants to snag game is preferable. The one thing that seems to stay the same no matter the scenario is that you can stand in the open stock-still, with no Protoculture radiation, and they'll go right over you. Unless..." His mouth thinned, keeping in mind that there were those among the Invid now that no longer relied on protoculture to track and kill...

"Bad," he murmured. Having served in the Sentinels campaign, he had some basis of comparison. "Any way we can get the word out?"

Matthew thought. "There's ways. I've got contacts, so I can help spread the word. But you're right," his voice softened, "there's something very dark at work here."

Gerald stomped back into camp, and Malcolm's attention was diverted, just in time to see Frederick's retreating back head out to take over sentry duty. Masochistically enough, the man's medium-blond head was bare in the freezing temperatures, even though Malcolm could hear him snuffle a bit with what he presumed was the cold being passed around the remaining Elms.

He really didn't know much about Fred or his past. He held a silence and aloofness about matters, which precluded conversation and which Malcolm nervously considered a prime characteristic of mass murderers of the last century. The main thing Malcolm remembered was that every time the Invid were mentioned, Fred's gray eyes would glaze over into a quiet hate that trickled coldness down Malcolm's spine.

_I wonder what makes him like that. Then again, maybe I don't want to know..._

Gerald began to stomp over to the fire, all three hundred pounds of him making themselves felt while he slapped feeling back into his hands and cheeks. He jerked to a halt when he saw Kevin slither out of Amanda's tent and make his way over to the fire, as Malcolm was dishing out the now-cooked fish. Quite deliberately, Gerald turned his back toward the other man; Kevin did not notice except for a slight shrug of green-clad shoulders. He knew full well the big man had only cordial dislike for him at the best of times and had so for five years.

"Here it is, unsalted." Malcolm passed the plate into O'Shea's waiting hands. Kevin gave him a thankful smile, prompting a return grin from Malcolm. As opposed to Gerald's sulleness or Fred's quiet fury, Malcolm liked the man, his sexuality nonwithstanding. He appreciated anyone who managed to keep a light mood in the misery of this filthy war.

"Thanks a lot, Malcolm. It's almost a pity to give it to her now--she's gone and fallen asleep, she's so tired. Poor thing." Kevin sighed, letting out a blast of steam.

"Either that, or let it get cold. She needs the nutrition." Malcolm spoke it with a little affection. He'd come to see Amanda as a bit of a pet in the months since she had arrived. She had certainly made a great deal of progress in the arts of war. He suspected Kevin had something to do with the fact that Malcolm could now trust her in training with an H-90 without inadverdently blowing off her foot. And that Scout... Malcolm shrugged. Amazing what a little puppy love can do, he thought, remembering certain events of his youth and smiling while remembering the same attitude Mandy sometimes had toward Kevin.

_Damn, this place is a soap opera..._ He rolled his eyes as the thought and laid on the next fillet as Kevin went back into Amanda's tent with her food.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

She lay asleep on the floor, swaddled up to the neck, the heater going full blast and not making much of a dent in the chill of the interior. Kevin stood and looked down at her thoughtfully, the fish steaming in the frigid air. She turned and sighed, a bit wheezily.

Kevin knew he was going to hate himself for waking her up; she needed the sleep just as much as she needed the food, and she'd been miserable the past couple days from her bronchial infection and unable to rest. This was the first sign it was getting a bit better. Since there was talk of another move east tomorrow, she needed her energy.

Kevin studied her features, noting that even the healing slashes across her face and the ravages of privation, grief, and illness hadn't taken away the heart-shaped farmgirl prettiness of the face in its straight mane of blond hair and the slightly tilted eyes. Sleeping, she looked her age again.

Sighing, he squatted and moved a hand to wake her, but hesitated as her eyelids fluttered and she stirred a little.

"Gracie?" she murmured. "Here..." The weak light illuminated a little moisture coming from under her lashes.

The food forgotten, he swallowed and leaned back, staring into space and choked by a heavy sick emotion he knew the name of but did not want to admit..

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Bow down before the one you serve

you're going to get what you deserve

**--Nine Inch Nails**, "Head Like a Hole"

_ORYO'I!_

The recipient winced at the telepathic bellow.

It seemed her lord was going into another of his fits. After shaking her head in a futile effort to clear it, she reached out and answered, her mind carefully neutral.

_Yes? You called?_

_What do you think I was doing, you little fool? I want you in the Hive command center immediately._

"I hear and follow, Lord Shkud." she said out loud in High Opteran. She quickly clamped down on any emotions. He was able to feel any of the Hive to a far greater extent than she, and Mother help her if he knew how she felt. Shkud was notoriously bad-tempered, and tended to relish his subordinates' discomfiture.

Shoulders twitching, Oryo'i turned and began to walk inward toward the Orbital Hive's core, her long white hair stirring in the air convection.

This was the first time since she had returned from planetside that he had deigned to contact her. The intervening time had been, had the Invid understood the concept, a hell of ignorance. A cold sensation was crawling up her vitals.

She was unarmored, not expecting any human attacks on the hive, and her paneled flightsuit with its identifying colors of dark gray, carmine, and orange nearly blended into the dimly-lit, dull red organic tunnel of the hive. Above it, her pale hair seemed to glow in comparison, her skin almost as fair as it and tightly covering a face ferally thin and delicate in appearance. After all, Oryo'i was one of the Queen-Mother's prize children, evolved into something entirely unlike lower Invid.

As she made her swift way into the interior, not wishing her lord's irate thoughts to break into her mind again, Oryo'i passed.several of the Malarosm, armored and unarmored, and their attendant Gamir, going about the business of maintaining the hive. All genuflected as she went, which she acknowledged with a nod. Internally, all she felt was a hollow feeling as they did so. It was not her orders they followed, not any more.

She and her brethren had been the pinnacle of evolution.

Then came Shkud and the others...

Just as the contact with Shkud's mind was beginning to grow even more irate, she entered into the command room. Oryo'i breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She knew she been very lucky when Shkud had decided not to devolve her for the debacle of half a lunar orbit ago, and she did not want to provoke him further. After getting a glimpse of the tall figure and the way it paced around in the room, she was glad she had arrived when she had.

Shkud whirled on her even before she was entirely inside. It was fairly dim inside the center, so at first all Oryo'i could see of the hivelord was a vague impression of a lean, predatory silhouette, the Kulagi-type dermasuit patterned in black, dark red and neon green, his face framed by past shoulder-length hair the color of bloody flame.

"What took you so long?" he snapped.

Oryo'i, choking down a very un-Invid response, knelt and lowered her orange eyes submissively. "Forgive me. I had to walk, and came as quickly as I could."

"Well," he sniffed. He stared down at the top of her bowed head in distaste. "I am still not--pleased--at the stupidity you took upon." His eyes, a perfect match to the green portions of his rainment, narrowed. "And without my approval.

"You are quite lucky, little Solugi. Some of my brethren apparently think slightly better of your worthless reputation than I do. Personally, I very much wished at the time to order you to the Genesis Pits." The subordinate Invid could not quite hide a shudder, which the commander took in with a thin smile of enjoyment. "However, some decided to think otherwise. And one must follow the dictates of the Hive." It was his way of saying he had given in without actually admitting it, as Oryo'i knew and tried to keep from the forefront of her mind. Struggling, she tried to explain.

"But they should not have been notified! I have no idea how..."

"I know. Most interesting. Which is why I have decided to relocate you on the planet, in one of the local hives under my command. Perhaps you can indulge your curiosity on the subject there."

What he meant was that he was demoting her. Back into the fighting, back most likely into an agonizing, messy death by some human mecha. Unlike most of the Kulagi overlords and many of her fellow Solugi, Oryo'i was willing to admit humans were very much capable of damage, and that she could be on the receiving end of it.

The evolution of the Invid by the Queen-Mother into the dominant life form of the planet they were occupying had had unexpected effects on their mental processes; triggering reactions, perceptions and feelings previously unknown and often terrifying to those experiencing them. It had shattered the Invid unity, turning what had used to be the One into the Many. One of those new feelings was currently making itself known to Oryo'i.

She didn't want to die.

It was all very well for the unevolved to give themselves up for the survival of the hive, but Oryo'i had found since her transmutation into this alien body that there was an Oryo'i whose continued existence she valued. But that was not the Invid way. One did as one was told, no second-guessing or questions asked, for the Hive was all.

All this passed through her mind in a microsecond, as she rose to her feet and looked foward unblinkingly, intentionally not seeing Shkud's gaze on her face.

"You may get your Gamun refueled before you leave and get the hive coordinates logged into your mecha. I wish you restationed by the next time that area enters the sun. Do not fail me or the Invid again, or you will certainly have the Genesis Pit in your future."

"Do I at least get a guard of Torab to the surface?" she dared.

"I think not. Getting to the surface by yourself will be an educational experience for you, Solugi. Perhaps the next time you will not be so quick to defy my orders."

And if she got killed on the way down, he'd have his hands washed of her. Unblinkingly, she genuflected, pivoted, and made her way past the crowd of monitoring Malar, hardly noticing the second figure behind Shkud as she did so. Perhaps an observer might have noticed just before she entered the shadows of the outside a slight shudder that might have been fear.

Shkud turned back to his companion. "Well, then, now that I have that slight distasteful business taken care of, what were you telling me about the Flower shipments, sister?"

There was a slight contralto "hmm," of consideration from the slim figure in the brown, burgundy and aqua scheme. Shagged, shoulder-length pale green hair luffed foward as she inclined her head, her eyes the unnerving brightness of brushed aluminum.

"In actuality, brother, there has been a marked increase since we altered our policy these past few lunar cycles as regarding the planet. The humans seem to respond quite--well to a show of force." She paused. "I believe, to digress, that your treatment of your subordinate was a bit--extreme."

"She defied orders!" Shkud snarled. "Would you value one who not only executed an operation on a minor human resistance base without your permission, but _also _managed to get her entire unit destroyed by some puny mecha piloted by punier monkeys, Lady Asaav? I said once and I said again that that type of behavior can not be tolerated among our ranks. You know full well that many of the Solugi are not obedient. We cannot encourage subversion."

Asaav gave him a hard stare. "Unlike those you speak of, Oryo'i has always been loyal to the cause, and unlike many of those loyal to the cause, she has a marked gift for taking initiative. Personally, I believe that the action that you find foolish, while not normal, shows an admirable talent for improvisation on her part. Furthermore, her plan seemed to be sound. Events simply did not humor it."

"Destroyed by a tiny resistance base is not humoring by events? How new!" Shkud said sarcastically. Asaav's lips narrowed for a second, before she continued.

"She did destroy the base, brother. The humans would be adrift without one. And do you not remember, it was a 'tiny' resistance force that convinced Our Mother that this would not be the world to gain our enlightenment on? I think that teeth can be found in the strangest places."

"Think what you like then. I wish to hear no more of it." Shkud turned away.

_I take it, Shkud, you do not like to hear of things you cannot have control over, or admit there are such things?_ Asaav thought, behind her mental shields.

Quietly, her mind went out and momentarily touched one of the Malar overseeing Oryo'i's departure for Earth. She ascertained that while the Solugi had not yet left, she was in the full swing of preparations. Asaav decided to add her own features to it.

_See that she gets two Torab to go with her_, she ordered, then broke the connection before Shkud noticed, her silver eyes bright with satisfaction.

_There, what will you think of that, Shkud?_

oooooooooooooooooooo 

**Three days later**

"Oof," Mandy grunted, as Sherry's Forager came down after a lurch into the air thanks to an inconvenient log. She was beginning to feel quite ill. She had started to regret choosing to ride pillon with the other woman about two minutes after the beginning of the day's trek: Shiroikiku might have more Invid kills than anyone save Gerald, Matthew, and Dennis, but she most certainly did not know the meaning of taking the path of least resistance when riding on a Cyclone.

Mandy's tailbone slammed hard on the seat. She winced in pain.

_Well, maybe the good thing is that it'll shake the garbage out of my windpipe_, she thought. She coughed deeply, to no success. The worst of the illness seemed to be behind her, thanks to the antibiotics and decongestants. The mucus it had produced remained behind to clog the breathing and to get nauseatingly coughed up, causing a quaint phenomenon that Sherry, a fellow sufferer, ever-so-tactfully called "harvesting lung potatoes." The rest also didn't trust her on her own Cyclone yet, after the near-disaster of five days ago. Her Forager, along with the rest of the unpiloted Cyclones, was being towed in a carrier by the Elms' only Samson, driven by Gerald.

Sherry found another boulder to flip off of, and Amanda swore. Any more of this and she would get her face torn open again. Time to ask Matthew if she could have her mecha back...

All of a sudden, Dennis, at the point position, slowed and halted. The rest followed suit, leaving Amanda to rub her smarting rear and to clear the lingering misery from her head.

She belatedly noticed there was a barrier in front of them, a dirt tumulus stretching out to either side and disappearing in the bare underbrush, some ten feet tall and topped by rusted electrical wire that had obviously been dead for years.

Dennis dismounted and scrambled up the earthen wall's sloping side. At the top, he seemed to search, eventually uncovering a fallen sign off to the side. It was almost illegible, but at long last he stood up and gave a nod.

"This is it."

They'd reached the Protected Zone barrier.

"You'd think it would be...better sealed," Amanda murmured.

Shiroikiku grunted. "Perimeter used to be patrolled by the SCA before the Invid. And the RDF before that. Didn't want anybody fucking around inside and getting radiation poisoning." She barked a cough.

"What about since?"

"Can't hurt to try and see. Looters can't have gotten everything. And there may still be buildings left standing."

Dennis came back down. "Checked the radiation levels. There's nothing unusual so far, but if it gets about a healthy level of millirem we're not going any further. Let's go."

He cut the wire, leaving an opening wide enough for the rest to scramble up the side of the wall, pushing their Cyclones, and then to slide over into the mess caused by the remelt of the snow. The cold spell had snapped, and this time it seemed spring might have a tenative toe in the door. There was some swearwords as the traction went thanks to the slippery slope and people ended up slithering on their rears, almost having their mecha fall on them on the way down. Dennis widened the opening for Gerald and his towed equipment, and the rest watched carefully as the massive, blocky Samson slowly grumbled down, the trailer's wheels partially braked so it and its load of eight Cylones and miscellaneous millitary weaponry and ammo would not slide on top of either man or mecha. Malcolm followed, his combat Cyclone towing a slightly lighter load of food and supplies. Then...

"That's it," Dennis noted.

There was still a rough track on this side, although it had been grown over in the intervening three decades since the Rain of Death. Fortunately, the late winter still left the area reasonably free of undergrowth To Amanda's eyes, the locale this side looked no different than what was on the other, thirty years having covered the scars of the hasty barricading efforts. In the distance, the track disappeared into the naked trees.

They remounted, muddy and grumbling, and continued on, going slowly on fusion. A few muttered complaints by Amanda had Shiroikiku grouch a response, but at least from that point on, the little Asian-descent controlled her driving habits.

They drove on for some two or three miles, in a deceptively bright if chill day, with no noticable changes. Even so, the knowledge of what they were entering gave Amanda sweaty palms. Ingrained habits were hard to break.

Then, the patchy woods began to give way to buildings.

"My God..." she murmured.

"It doesn't look like it's been touched at all," Sherry said distantly.

True, thirty years of neglect had caused pavement to crack and shatter, trees to sprout in the strangest places, and structures to sag, buckle and warp, but there was no sign of bombing or air strikes. There was also no sign of human presence. There was the infrequent chirp of sparrows, numerous squirrels and rabbits looking at them in animal interest, but other than that, the Cyclone motors hummed on in a deathly silence.

Amanda and Sherry stared around them, haunted looks on their faces. They were not the only ones. In back, Gerald crossed himself, Fred looked on in stony silence, Gwen's lips narrowed, and Kevin swallowed convulsively. The Altman siblings murmured quietly amongst themselves as Miranda rode next to Malcolm. Matthew's face was set grimly at the sight. Of them all, only Dennis seemed somewhat unaffected.

"Perhaps we ought to case the area," he began.

"Uh, if it's all right with you," Gwen said for once diffidently, "I'd rather stick together. No tellin'--you know." There was a murmured chorus of assent from the others.

Dennis shrugged. "East?" Matthew nodded. They continued onward.

The buildings began to grow taller, congregating around a street which still had a mangled sign marked "NE-- -T." on a corner. They passed and it began to taper off again, although the buildings still had the look of an urban area. They had to dodge potholes, shattered pavement, and once or twice, thriving, thirty year-old maples cracking the roadway. It continued on this way for a few miles. Suddenly, Dennis held up a hand.

"I'm detecting radiation. It's weak, though; just a notice." They went on.

Almost as one, a chorus of gasps, curses and exclamations rose as the sight suddenly hit them. Before them, they saw the reason why the city had been abandoned.

Half of it no longer existed.

The crater was a mile and a half of fused rock and glass that stretched into a round bowl before them. Rains had turned it into a lake that glittered with deceptive purity in the sunlight and cloudless sky, and undergrowth had managed to spring up around the margins. Only the lake's shape and the partially melted buildings around its perimeter indicated its true nature. From the age of the thing, it looked to be a direct result of one of the blasts of Dolza's attempt to wipe out life on the Earth.

While the rest of them looked numbly on, Dennis drove the remaining two hundred and fifty yards to the margin of the crater/lake, then crouched and measured both the ambient radiation and tested the water in the toximeter he had with him. It was a good five minutes before he made his way back.

"There's radiation, but Matthew and I were right; it's an isotope with a short half-life, and the radioactivity isn't likely to give us problems. Actually, the water has even less radiation than suspected; it's drinkable, but I'd strongly say we run it through a purifier first. And it wouldn't be a smart idea to stay here for extended periods." Matthew nodded in assent, then looked thoughtful, scraping a hand through a week's worth of stubble.

"Obviously, going on this way is out of the question. Do we go around, south, back, or north?"

Dennis shrugged. "No opinion. Wish we had an Alpha, though; we might have been able to get a look then. We don't and we can't, however."

Ulm made a face, his features wrinkling across fault lines of past stress. His hazel eyes were cautious. "At least, I think there's no nearby hives. We haven't seen any Invid activity for eight days now, so I doubt there's any out here. And there's no sign of the Flower of Life, either."

"Plus the bloody things stand out like zits," Gerald mumbled in response. Matthew startled, then grinned at the big man.

"Yeahhh... Let's put it to a vote."

The results were four north, one back, two around and three south. Ulm hemmed.

"About equal for north and south. Let's divide by who voted. I'll take north, Dennis south. Miranda, Gwen, Fred, you go with him. Kev, Mandy, Gerald, go with me. Malcolm, Sherry, you're going to have to find a place to stay with the garbage. When do we meet?"

"Let's say 1600 hours. It's 1100 now, and it ought to give us enough time to look around and then find a place to stay for the night. Check in every half-hour on the net, and holler if help is needed." Zinnert looked questioningly at Matthew, who nodded agreement.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

After a quick meal, the Elms divided, leaving Sherry and Malcolm to their devices in a building away from the crater. Amanda managed to beg back her Forager, and gratefully remounted, falling in with the rest.

It was still a bit jouncy due to the ravages of time on pavement, but far better than the open fields and woodland they'd traversed in the last three weeks. They made fairly good time down the streets, even with a stop every once in a while to scan the area for goods or potential habitation. It was disappointingly sparse. The surviving residents had obviously been rapidly evacuated by what remained of the UEG after the Rain, but they had made a thorough job of taking their belongings with them.

Kevin dropped back down by Amanda after an hour or so, when the buildings were beginning to get sparse. "How're you doing?" he said over the engine grumble.

"Pretty good, all things considering. Like I was still wondering about the use of living twenty-four hours ago." Kevin grinned.

"Yeah. I know the feeling. I remember my first hangover." Mandy chuckled.

"Thought you'd be up there with the Lieutenant." Kevin's smile dimmed a little, and he gestured with his chin at Gerald's broad back. "Oh."

He pulled his Ferret over another foot, dropping his voice as much as possible. "With him giving dirty looks at me? Fat chance." Mandy was a bit chastened to realize that although she knew full well of Gerald's attitude toward Kevin and his relationship with Matthew, she'd never thought Kevin might have had a similar antipathy toward Gerald.

Kevin's voice was thoughtful. "I just wish that he'd be a little more...accepting. I'm not asking any special treatment, you know." Amanda nodded. "Just because Matthew's my...friend...doesn't mean I'm getting favors."

"Always did think he was kind of grouchy."

"Can't help what he is, which is terminally grouchy." He paused, as the buildings began to drop away. They saw the other two turn left, and they followed suit. "I care about Matthew very much, and he does for me, which is kind of amazing. Actually, I think the entire Elms is his family." His voice grew soft. "It really hit him hard when Dalby, Blume and the others were killed and the rest left because they gave up. They--and we--are the only kids he has."

Mandy racked her brains, getting only mangled images of the hellish first days after they were forced to flee. "He didn't show it. He kept on leading, just like always."

"He puts on a good facade. I know."

"Does he have any brothers or sisters that he told you?"

Kevin thought about it. "One brother, who was a Jesuit priest, and a married sister. Both died when the Invid invaded the first time." He sighed. "Probably why he took such a liking to you. He knew what it was like." Mandy nodded, remembering her family.

_And I alone am escaped to tell thee..._

"Then there's Dennis," He snorted.

"Yup. Never met a man more dull in my life." Mandy muttered. He chuckled.

"Yup, his objection to me is the age differential. My objection to him is that apparently the last time he showed any emotion was when Malcolm mistook him for the furniture. Gad! But what really annoys me is--oops, watch it," as they nearly missed the others turning on what used to be an old highway, dividing the wrecks of what used to be department stores and restauraunts, "is his indifference to the planet."

Her brows furrowed, she turned on him. "What?"

Kevin made a sour face. "He was born on Earth, grew up on Mars, went from there to the REF, went over half the Fourth Quadrant playing Lone Ranger to the Sentinels races and their pets, so guess what happens? No connection to any world. The joker's more Tirolian than Terran. Earth," he said in disgust, "is just another job for him. And this is the world he came from." He spat over to the side of the road.

"But certainly his combat experience means something, Kevin."

"What experience? Matthew fought his ass off during the last war, and was in the SCA before that. He has just as much if not more combat experience than Zinnert, and he outranks him too. Zinnert also gives him a more cosmopolitan-than-thou attitude every so often. Makes me want to kick his teeth in. 'Course, I'm being loyal."

"Where were you stationed, then?"

"Cushy rear-line desk job, is how I'd put it."

She paused a few minutes, as the buildings began to drop away again to young woods and open countryside and they turned, and turned again.

"Uh, what does Matt's fighting on Earth have to do with anything?"

Kevin made a face and shrugged under his CVR armor. "To paraphrase Earth history, why did the colonists fight on in the American Revolution and win? Why did the Vietnamese manage to eject a force that was vastly more powerful than it? Why did the Afghanis manage to kick out the old Soviets?" He paused. "Two facts: All of 'em knew the territory and the enemy didn't, and all of 'em loved that land so much they were willing to die for it. Dennis is gonna get his ass killed if he doesn't understand the meaning of those two little facts in his heart." His voice grew from peeved to angry. "Hell, even I..." He broke off, looking alarmed.

"Huh? What were you saying?"

Instead of answering, he let out a long, drawn-out whistle.

She followed his gaze, and her eyes widened at the brick monolith they were pulling towards. She stared and kept on staring as the four pulled to a halt just outside it.

"What is it?" she whispered, as the engines went off.

"If Matt told me right," Kevin said, "it's an old shopping mall."

Mandy shoved back her visor, and stared further. "You mean...one of those big closed buildings with all those little shops they had way back when?"

Kevin nodded. Mandy puffed breath in awe.

Matthew motioned them over, and they dismounted and complied.

"Okay, folks. We may have something here. We'll have to case the area to make certain it hasn't been broken into, and then we'll see if we can get inside and see if there's anything we can salvage." Gerald raised a gauntleted hand.

"Probability of goods?" he asked.

Ulm thinned his lips. "When Dolza bombarded the planet, it was nighttime here, thus the 'Night of Fire' that we remember here. I ought to know; I was ten at the time. This means that every major business here had to be closed then, including this. From the looks of things, people were so hot to get out after the local blast they didn't stop to loot anything inconvenient. Furthermore, there still doesn't seem to be any marks of civilization or human presence since then, this place included. All of this, and the only conclusion I can draw is we may be looking at the single biggest cache of goods in the entire Midwest of this continent."

Gerald mumbled a slightly disbelieving profanity. Matthew shrugged.

"Can't hurt to look." He wandered over to the the entranceway in front of them, an absurdly small set of four glass swinging doors compared to the huge sunken brick awning they were under. He prodded at them experimentally.

Mandy wet her lips. "Matthew--Lieutenant--is this what you and Dennis were looking for?"

He looked up, a bit surprised. "Not exactly, hon, but I knew of a few towns in the protected area--or that used to be there before. This was the largest. And it wasn't just this building. We knew of other possible sources in the area. But this baby--" he patted the door he was examining--"was the consumer paradise of the twentieth century. Hey Kevin, got any picks on you? The damn thing's locked." He looked up at the other two. "You guys, take off and have a look around the other entranceways. See you in half an hour."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Oh, my god," Miranda Altman whispered.

As the others began to file in and search the shell of what had once been a room, she fell to her knees, surrounded by books. Rotting, molding, roach-eaten books. She was in a morgue containing the corpses of centuries of human learning.

"Oh, man, the waste..."

It hadn't taken them long to find, a half-mile or so from the crater, the shells of university buildings and within them what they had once contained. Fortunately, they had not yet found any human remains yet, but the paper and silicon remains were almost as bad in Miranda's eyes. Once upon a time, in a more hopeful year, she had pursued a doctorate. And then the Robotech Masters came, with the Invid hot on their heels....

"What's the matter?" Gwen asked.

"Look at this. All ruined," Miranda told the redhead flatly.

"So were human lives. That's more important." Gwen said finally.

Miranda bit her lips, her brown face showing the strain. "Okay, but you can replace human lives, Gwen. But this--" She waved a helpless hand around the dark, mildew-reeking room. "You...you can't replace knowledge."

She still did not look like she totally understood. Yet another post-Rain kid, happy in her ignorance, Miranda thought bitterly. God damn the stupid fucking Robotech wars, God damn them. They've put us all the way back into the seventeenth century. And where was the God-damned REF when we needed them most? At least Miranda herself had managed to keep her curiousity alive, despite her upbringing.

Miranda picked up a fallen title, the type barely legible from water stains, and managed to make out a fragmented title: -he Orig-n of Spe--es. She was thankful. If it had been Shakespeare she probably would have started crying.

Malcolm had never had the kind of intellectual drive his elder sister had, although he was no slouch mentally. Miranda knew full well that he and Shiroikiku had probably managed to find...other diversions by now. They had been an item for the past several months. Somehow, it only made her angrier. When Dennis came up behind her, it was all she could do not to turn and snarl at the REF veteran.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Her voice still came out harshly, and his eyes widened. He had remarkable compusure, though.

"We're going to go further south. If we're going to use any of these places for habitation, we need to find a spot that's more stable and drier." Miranda premptority nodded and dropped the ruined text where she found it, squeaking to her feet in her armor.

She sucked in the fresh wind when they emerged. The mildew inside had begun to make her eyes run. Grabbing hold of her Cyclone's handlebars, she proposed, "Let's walk."

Dennis shrugged, and Miranda was seconded by Gwen, and surprisingly enough, even Fred nodded as well. They began to wheel their mecha down the cracked pavement, past a couple of building shells.

"Not a bad day," Miranda offered, despite her upset. Fred grunted something affirmative.

"Nope. It is getting a little warmer. I'd say forty-five Farenheit." He brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Kind of amazing, considering a few days ago what it was like."

"Hell, the Midwest weather was always a bit psychotic, and the wars didn't help none." Miranda responded, astonished she'd actually gotten an answer from the normally taciturn man. She ventured a question, one of very few she'd tried around his uncertain temper. "Fred, where did you come from? I know you told me, but..."

"New York. The city. Or at least what's left of it. Probably you wouldn't have remembered. I'm not very talky." His long face glimmered with something that might have been humor. "I know some insulting names your roomie gave me. Just because I'm shut makes her think I'm deaf."

"Which--Oh, Sherry. Huh," she grunted. "I'm not surprised."

A thin smile. "I don't like talking about it much. Some nasty things happened there. In fact, the reason I'm with the Elms has a lot to do with it."

"The Invid?"

The look that passed his features momentarily was frightening. "Oh, yes...

"First time around, when the bastards occupied, they were either stomping down the streets or trying to wipe us out. I guess you know about what some asshole in the enemy command tried to do to Manhattan." His hands wrung around the handlebars. "Believe me, hearing about it is a hell of a far cry from being in it...."

"Sorry, Fred." She was beginning to wish she hadn't opened up the conversation.

He glanced over at her, and calmed a bit. "I could have taken that. It was when they decided to come back the second time..." His voice trailed off.

They investigated a few more buildings as the afternoon progressed, with similarly depressing results. Miranda managed to salvage a couple of texts, which she stored in her Cyclone's carriers. About two o'clock, she found herself strolling next to Gwen, who was enjoying the unusually clement weather.

"Pretty nice day," Gwen thought out loud, combing back her radiant red hair. "Maybe it'll stay this way now. Definitely could've been worse." She gave a sidelong smile at Miranda, who was examining with disgust her own unravelling cornrows. Time to have Malcolm rebraid it... Noticing the younger woman's gaze on her, she looked up and gave a sheepish grin.

"How's life with this illustrious band of merry human persons thus far?" she drawled. The Kentuckian chuckled.

"Oh, pretty grand, 'cept for the nasty lil' bit about getting stuck in the thumb, and here I saved you puppies." Miranda hooted. "Survived all this nastiness, become the best little target fiend I can, and that's my reward?"

"Well, there is this bit about possible Simulagents that might infiltrate us. We had to check. The bit about Bernard's group never guessing the girl they picked up was Invid warned Matt. One of the first rules the Elm core group put in was that. Haven't had any yet."

Gwen furrowed her brows. "What if..."

Miranda hemmed. "I have no idea. Our gut instinct might be to wipe 'em, but that's not completely fair. We'd either eject them or put 'em under quarantine for a while, depending on how we voted and the evidence. I think killing them would be out of the question." She shrugged. "After all, from what I hear, quite a few humanoid Invid have given us most of the information on the Earth occupation that we have. And I know at least one group was actually headed by one. Sera, I think her name was."

"Huh, I think that's the one that defected near the end of the last war." Miranda nodded, suddenly remembering.

"Any rate, that was one of the other core rules we put in. I think my brother, Matt, Kevin and Gerald overruled Dennis to put that in."

"Ohh, Kevin now, that's a sweet babe!" Gwen growled huskily. Miranda gave her a sharp look.

"Hands off, girl. He's taken, and he's not your preference anyway."

Gwen gave her a coy look. "Might not hurt to try."

"You do and he might nail you to the wall."

Gwne waggled her eyebrows. "With the way he looks, he can nail me any dang time he wants."

The double entendre was not lost on her companion, who groaned. She was worse than Sherry, and she was screwing Miranda's sibling. ("Don't you two ever do something else?" she'd shouted in exasperation when finding them slouching around the passages of the old base, arms slung around each other and with punch-drunk expressions on their faces that hinted what they'd just been up to outside.

(With one hugely grinning voice, they'd said, "Nope." Miranda had courted the idea of slugging her baby brother then and there, but Sherry probably would have gotten her then.)

"Hmmph, well, he kind of likes that little blond twit anyway." Gwen muttered.

"Gwen darlin', Mandy is not a twit, I know from personal experience. Anyone who runs a marathon to escape an Enforcer doens't deserve the title."

Dennis glanced back at them with exasperation. "Will you two stop that and come up here? I think we've got a couple promising buildings."

"Sure," Miranda said. Privately she thought, What, one that isn't half-fallen in? Be a miracle. The entire world does a pretty good job of it, some days.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Found nothing," Gerald said, his bulk looking absurd above the Forager he'd borrowed. He dismounted and wandered over to where Mandy was sitting, watching Kevin and Matthew fiddle with a second door. One had already been picked and was propped open to reveal a dusty inner entrance containing several plastic seats, in which the two men were working.

"Yeah Gerald, Mandy said as much." He murmured a suggestion to his companion, who nodded. "We're almost done. Took longer than we thought, because this place may still have live alarm systems."

Gerald's brows hiked. "After almost thirty-three years?"

"Sure. Watch it," he warned Kevin. "A lot of major businesses had converted to fusion or perpetual-motion generators by then. I've got the feeling this is the latter, since it was the cheaper and cleaner source."

Kevin was sucking air through his teeth. "Just about--almost--got it." There was a snick, and the door squealed open as he pushed on it.

"You first," he told Ulm. The lieutenant rolled his eyes. The rest followed him tenatively into the darkness beyond. Kevin propped open the second door, then followed them in, switching on a halogen flashlight.

Amanda gawked.

"Wow..." Kevin whistled. "They sure didn't make 'em small."

The wing they were in could have easily had an Alpha or one of the smaller Destroids stand up inside. Besides a very fine layer of dust, the tile and benches looked as unaffected by time and just as they were the day the mall closed for the last time. Matthew had more than half expected the air to be stale, but it was moving and fresh. It was still very dark, outside the gently wavering circle of the lantern, and deathly quiet.

"The venilation's still working," he murmured. "Which means, maybe, that the lights..." he trailed off.

They moved on inside. Mandy was slightly boggled. The hallway alone was higher and wider than anything she'd experienced in her life, and the entrances that the lantern light hinted at meant even more space inside.

Futher on, five minutes later, they came to a center court. Here, the time passed was a little more apparent. It was dimly lit by a glass skylight, mostly obscured by grime. The fountains were clogged, leaving only a foul-looking residue at the bottom, verdigrised with ancient coins. Skeletons of dead trees filled earthen depressions in the center of the walkway.

"Must've been pretty when it was open." Mandy said.

"Oh, it was." Ulm assured. "They all were."

Gerald started. "Hey, look over there."

Ulm walked in the direction of his pointing finger. "Aha. Steps. Let's go

down."

Shrugging, the other man complied. "Aren't you going to explore the top floor first?"

"Ensign, it's not the top floor I'm interested in as much as the bottom ones. I'm looking for a spot where Protoculture radiations might be shielded, preferably as much by the ground as possible. That's why the old base was designed the way it was."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, Lieutenant?" Kevin and Amanda, following them downward, looked at each other and shrugged.

"Yep."

"This place is wide out in the open, for Chrissakes!"

Ulm reached the floor. "Well, we'll have to see what Dennis' group brings back. Look at it this way, Gerald. We're not likely to find a better spot. Look at how far and how long we had to travel to find this."

Gerald sighed unhappily. Kevin cleared his throat. "Your pardon, but from experience the average Invid doesn't have the intelligence to look for obvious bases. If it doesn't move too conspicuously like a millitary outfit, and it doesn't radiate Protoculture, it doesn't matter. If we find an adequate way to shield the stores, we ought to be halfway safe."

Gerald's lantern-lit visage scowled at him. "What do you know about it, O'Shea?"

Kevin shrugged. "At least as much as you do. We've fought the same battles for five years now."

"We're running out of Protoculture, energy clips and ammo," Gerald pointed out. "Where're we supposed to get more? The fairies?"

"I'm going to tackle that problem next, Ensign. We've got to crawl before we can walk. I think there's a depository over in Terre Haute." Ulm looked down at his watch and swore. "It's almost 1500. Come on, we've got maybe a half-hour before rondezvous to check this place out."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

An hour later found them back at their starting point, waiting with Sherry and Malcolm, watching the second group come in. Sherry and Malcolm seemed unusually content, but Mandy dismissed it with a roll of her eyes. She'd experienced Shiroikiku's semi-quiet sneaking out in the middle of the night countless times.

Privately she couldn't help but wonder how Sherry could ride her Cyclone in the spine-crunching, semi-suicidal way she had, and... She shied away from the thought.

Instead, she was regaleing Sherry with a involved tale of what they'd found north of town.

"You know what, there's even working lasercdisc players in there, and laser discs, and maybe there's electricity we can use. Let's not even get into those televisions we found in this one big store."

Sherry whistled, running her hand through the bleached strip she wore down the center of her hair. "Sounds nifty. My parents always were big into the old animes, dingbat pseudo-Nipponese they were. I'm good with wiring. Maayyybeee..."

Amanda's light green eyes lit up and she smiled, as the second team pulled up.

"Bonjour, o lost ones! What news do you bring to us?" Kevin gave a fiendish grin. Dennis shrugged, his mouth twitching upward, Miranda grinned almost as hugely as Kevin, Fred rolled his eyes, and Gwen smiled and batted hers.

"Uh-oh," Sherry muttered. "Trouble."

"Huh?"

"You blind? You notice she's been after him for the past week?"

Amanda was miffed. "How could I, what with coughing up glop and considering how much you and Malcolm--" Sherry hit her.

Amanda kept a closer look on the Southerner. Something about the way Gwen paid especially hard attention to her friend raised her hackles.

Yep, I'm jealous, she admitted.

"Good news. We found university ruins down south, complete with a few intact buildings. At least two of them are very large paper libraries, and one's underground and with power. With some work, we could make it into a perfectly good base." Dennis smiled and saluted. Matthew nodded back.

Miranda grinned, her teeth white against her face, and she swatted her bike carriers, which Mandy belatedly noticed were bulging with books. "And guess what I did?"

Amanda laughed. "I'm happy for you! You were ready to go bonkers after you lost your old library. You've hit the grand prize, hmm?"

"And how!"

The lieutenant's wry voice cut through the chatter. "Ahem... This is all well and good, but could we tell our side?"

He began talking about their findings, with periodic interruption by Gerald, Kevin, and Amanda to clarify points. A stunned silence began to spread, as the implications of the wealth uncovered began to sink in. Fred whistled, once.

Dennis broke in. "This is great, Lieutenant, and I'm very glad this was found, but have you considered the strategic factors yet?"

Ulm ran his hands through his untrimmed hair. "Yes, I have. There's nothing wrong with the center's location that a little care in entering and leaving can't cure. There's an underground parking garage that Protoculture and mecha can be stored in, there's running water from a tank and from the PM generator's byproducts, and there's an enormous amount of space for us to live in. We have to keep in mind future base growth."

"True. But still, considering how bad the crackdowns seem to be getting, according to the grapevine... We're not talking stupid Invid running the franchise anymore. And they've ways of finding out, even if there weren't humanoid pilots. On Spheris, they used the Cougars to sniff out potential resistance enclaves."

Kevin was beginning to look annoyed. Amanda was wondering if this was part of Dennis' behavior that bothered him. He did tend to go into his offworld exploits rather much.

"As I recall, those tended to be a few miles underground. It won't make a difference in the end if we end up at the mall or your library." Matthew pointed it out with a sigh.

"The Invid army here doesn't even have Cougars," Kevin said. He rubbed his

forehead, frustrated.

Matthew held up finger. "They've got other Inorganics--Ferrets, Krakens, God knows what. But the mall--has got a working security system, or one we can get going with a little work. That's why we spent a while trying to break in the nice way and not set it off or disable it."

"But do you consider it safe enough?" Dennis insisted.

"I don't know, ask them. They're the firepower. We're just the stupid leaders."

There was a brief silence, and then a babble of voices broke out. Dennis' contradictions were overwhelmed.

"Ah, democracy," Ulm murmured. "Not exactly millitary, but satisfying anyway."

Kevin looked over at Ulm with a grin.

"Got a sneaking suspicion what the results are going to be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Want to bet on it?"

"Hell no. I'm not that stupid. Sneaky move to pull on him."

"I'm not as stupid as I look. Take some pointers."

Kevin sniggered.


	3. Chapter Three

**Dandelions: Chapter 3 of 9**

"SHOWERS! HOT showers! Thank you, God, I believe in you again!"

"Hmm, soap that isn't sweat-scented."

"Water water everywhere. I love you, water..."

"Definitely an improvement."

"Improvement? IMPROVEMENT?? My god, Zinnert, how you understate."

"Been a while, huh, Gerald?"

"Stop smiling. Fuck you, Altman."

"Nope, that's Sherry's job. You can stop throwin' the soap at me, Kevin."

"The Invid are barbarians! They don't believe in showers! Shit, what do they do, wallow in that green shit all day? How can they stand it?"

"I love you water, hydrogen hydroxide baby. You're my fave."

"You definitely haven't gotten laid recently. Well, yeah, recent conditions..."

"Nope, just going orgasmic over cleanliness. Burblelblrubble blruubelble."

"Get your face out of the shower head, O'Shea. God, you're weird."

"Took you this long to find that out? I thought it was obvious before. I've worked at it. I haven't anything to lose, what with being a faggot already."

"What???"

"Just stating something already mentioned, Matt. And you're one too."

"Frederick?? Have you--"

"Just stating an established fact, I think. Lieutenant. The weirdnesss, not the other. I'll be in here until the crack of doom, if you don't mind. Send a bar of soap in every so often."

"Sorry, Fred, no can do. We've got a war going on."

"Yes, master. Any time, master."

"Burbleburbleburble burble."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Drip, drip, drip, drip_.

"Look at this, man. What's a Sealy Posturepedic?"

"Whatever it is--" a bounce onto the plastic-wrapped package, "Ohhh-- this is to die for."

"And electric lamps. Where's those VCR machines Sherry's been talkin' about?"

"Over in the Hardware section. It's not going to go anywhere, Gwen. Besides, whenever the guys get out, I won't care if they spontaneously disappear."

"Oh, to be clean again..."

"Yeah, and look at what I found."

"What? Oh, god, Sherry. Flourescent pink dye? Are you gonna..."

"YES." A happy squeak of rapture.

"Christ, Sherry, the Invid will see you from ten miles off!"

"Don't swear, Miranda."

"Ah-ha, little Miss Toiletmouth telling me? And it's thirty-four years old! Do you have any idea what it's going to be like now?"

"Extra concentrated?"

"Well, it's her hair. Besides, we can all laugh at her later."

"Mandy, you're cruel."

"But honest." Giggle.

"Not going to be the only color."

"Uh-oh, what is it, you crazy wench?"

"Wench yourself, Miranda."

"Well, what is it?"

"Blue."

"Oh, no no no _no_ no..."

"Why don't we hit a clothing store, girls?"

"You go ahead, Gwen, I'll stay right here. This is my mattress."

"Yeah. And these are our clothes, and the guys' clothes, dryin' on some cord we found. And those are our Cyclones..."

"Sarcasm isn't you, Gwen."

"Wake up, Mandy, I think the guys are done."

"I wasn't sleeping anyway."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Look at what we found."

"Yes! Mattresses that aren't cut off in the middle. Where?"

"Ooof--over in that one department store. The JCPenney's. Those were the demonstration mattresses, stupid."

"Excuuuse me."

"We found the storage area. Not too roachy, all things considered."

"Now where did El Lieutenante say we were shackin' up?"

"Bottom floor. In the one store, next to the video and LD store. I think Sherry's turning Suncoast Pictures into our TV room. I saw her with the pallet, leaving the store same time we were. Huge-ass TV. What the hell is she intending on watching on it?"

"Knowing Sherry, I don't think I want to know. This is a woman who has Scouts for breakfast and then decides to curl up with a Stephen King novel. Speaking of which, that Waldenbooks up on the upper level..."

"Miranda went in there at nine. Hasn't come out since. Zinnert's thinkin' of organizing a search party."

"Aw, let her have her fun. You know, she used to be an English doctoral candidate."

"Anyway--really? Not bad. Where?"

"Some university out east. In Pennsylvania. Yeah?"

"Is there gonna be something where we girls can sleep and you guys can sleep elsewhere? Ain't gonna let any of you guys see my underthingies... "

"Oh yeah, but Kevin's got a free pass, doesn't he?"

"SHUT UP."

"Hmmm, I wonder what you were doing in that Victoria's Secret place."

"I am not listenin' to this." Aggrieved bootfalls faded.

"Hmm, you seem to have pissed her off over to the showers."

"Well, it's not like she's going to get into his pants anyway, no matter what she thinks. Have you ever seen O'Shea without Matt?" There was a thoughtful pause.

"Nope. And Ulm always insists on being the first to see to him when he gets banged up. Definitely queer, those two."

"Yeah. Help me get these damn mattresses downstairs. We still need to get three more."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

**A week later**

Things had become more organized. Two stores, one on either side of a discarded video store, had become host to the respective male and female halves of the Elms. The racks and other paraphenelia that had formerly inhabited them had been moved out into the main corridor, and in some cases, were now being worn by the resistance. Considering the vast glut of still-usable products inside the old shopping center, it was decided that some of it would be used for barter with other resistance factions and towns in order to get food, ammunition and protoculture. The lighting and security systems had at last been found somewhere in the bowels of the place, and light, for the first time in three decades, illuminated their segment of the territory.

A population of cats had been found to be haunting the distant corners of the building, which most likely accounted for the lack of rodent damage to the goods. At first, Amanda assumed that they had been escapees from a pet store within the confines, but search had uncovered nothing of the sort. After Ulm had gently pointed out the fate of any animals caged and abandoned here, Amanda was just as glad there were not. The felines had apparently come from outside, looking for prey. They were wild, but Amanda had covertly seen Gerald and even Dennis set out food for them. She added her contributions as well.

They had become the most comfortably-equipped they had been since the war had

started/re-started, and in some cases for the first time in their lives. Dennis seriously considered going on a barter trip to either nearby Danville or Terre Haute, two towns that had managed to survive the Robotech Wars somewhat intact and which were reputed to have caches of protoculture and ammunition. Miranda offered to go along. Amanda was privately unhappy at the thought of temporarily losing one of her closest confidantes, but made no mention. Kevin, though, seemed affected by it as well, if only exhibiting it by redoubling his snatch-and-infuriate attacks on the elder Altman.

Shiroikiku at last managed to hook up power and a video and laser player to an enormous television she had pilfered. She'd gathered together a stock of old movies she judged were "absolutively must-sees, got me?" and was planning to subject her teammates to an entire day of it--at least.

Ulm gave his blessing. This set off another conflict between him and Zinnert. Zinnert pointed out it was not millitarily correct. Ulm pointed out what the team had been through in the past month had not been millitarily correct. Zinnert said that it left them open to the Invid. Ulm said the Invid would find them when they were good and ready at any rate. Zinnert said they had better things to which to dedicate their energy. Ulm scowled and agreed, and then pointed out that Zinnert and Miranda were to leave very shortly, the others had some sick team-mates to find again, the Elms had been through some very trying times recently, and Shiroikiku's improvisational film-fest might recover their battered morale. All of those things were quite energetic. Death and fighting could always wait.

Zinnert threw one last salvo regarding his ten years of experience in the REF and the Sentinel War and how the Admirals Hunter would have never allowed something so anti-regulations to be done. Ulm's soft hazel eyes went agate and he pointed out that if Zinnert hadn't noticed, this wasn't exactly the REF anymore, regulations had died about two years ago regarding the Invid War, and furthermore Ulm would very much like to meet the Hunters and discuss their cinematic tastes with them.

It was in fact the first time the two co-leaders had actually come to something like blows in Mandy's memory. As she watched the exchange, she raised her eyes and suddenly encountered Kevin's ironic blue stare. He rolled his eyes to the heaven and left the two to patch things up.

The filmfest went through.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Check me out!" Miranda declared, strutting into the room. Gerald looked up and whistled raucously.

"Looking hot, babe! Arrooo." She smacked him. She actually was quite striking in a dark purple sweater (Bergner's) stirrup pants (the Gap), and a blazing collection of brass beads studding her redone cornrows. The heavy military field boots rather detracted from the rest.

"Where'd you get the couch, lumphead?"

"Penney's. Carrying it down the elevator was a bitch. But here it is."

"So I see. Where's--Oh, there's Amanda." He nodded and smiled at the newcomer, the past few months having eroded some of the distrust and reserve. She answered it. "Nice civvies. They look good."

"Thank you. I hoped they would." She looked down at loose khaki slacks, thick wool socks and beige suede boots. On top she had a spring-green sweater over a coral blouse and quite a lot of costume jewelry. Malcolm had also contributed a trim and french braid . "Guess we're dressing up for it."

"And why not? It is a party of some kind."

Miranda snorted lustily. "Plus I was really gettin' to hate those damned coveralls. Whichever Reefer designed them went into the Gunny Sack school of fashion, I swear."

"Yeah, I'll agree, 'Randa. Only good thing about 'em is that you can rip 'em on for an attack. Don't mind telling you what things vomit olive does for me." Gerald rolled his eyes.

"Well, yeah, does make you look washed out."

"I don't believe this," Mandy grumped. "The muscles of the Elms, and he's worried about color coordination?"

"Twerp, just because I have muscles doesn't mean I don't have a fashion sense." He yanked at his sweater haughtily. Not much could be found to fit him even here, but dilligent effort had turned up a few things.

"Shuddup, Gerald."

"YEEEEEEEHAAAWWWW!" Gerald ducked as a screaming red, green and black blur dove out of nowhere and ricocheted off the couch.

"Kevin, you twinky son of a bitch!" Gerald roared. The two women, astonished, poked their heads up and got a impression of a body imploded into several of the beanbags also accquired for the day. Indistinct, mocking barking sounds could be heard emitting from the locale. Gerald settled back into his couch, steaming. Mandy had to bite down on an eruption of giggles.

In a huff of offended dignity, the Elms equipment manager turned back to Amanda. "See you finally got the stitches out."

She nodded, touched her face. "Yeah."

He examined her face a little more closely. "Hmm, not a bad job of healing at all. No puckering. Main problem with the big one is that it's a distinct straight trench in your cheek and they all tend to be a bit on the white side." One big finger traced a two-and-a-half inch healed slash in her cheek.

'It's not gonna go away, is it?"

Gerald shook his head. "I think you're stuck with it, unless you can get some fancy REF cosmetic surgery." Her shoulders sagged. "I've got plenty of my own to prove it. But hey, yours was a neat mess. It healed neatly. Gives you character, and you're still pretty even with it. Malcolm did a terrific job in the circumstances."

Kevin examined it too, ignoring Gerald's suspicious movement away from him. "He's right. Accept it, okay?"

She reluctantly complied.

"YOU look like Christmas," Miranda snorted.

The younger man grinned and bowed, showing off his red-shirted, green-jacketed finery to full advantage. "I try hard."

"What's with that stupid green bandanna around your head?"

"I'm going Japanese. Sherry explained it all to me. I'm gonna be the Cyclone Samurai. She started yammering something about Planet Ten and then I decided to get the hell out of there."

"Yep sounds like her. How Malcolm stands her is beyond me. I take this goes in with your Zen fetish?"

"Yup, and my kendo fetish, and my rice fetish. Nothing like whacking the crap out of each other with bamboo and then sitting down to dinner."

Gerald snorted, sinking into the couch.

"How Matt puts up with you is beyond me."

"He's a masochist. A very tolerant one."

"I've gotta be with your stealing other people's well-deserved food, like a certain lunch yesterday." O'Shea grinned ingenously at Miranda's glare.

Amanda, smiling at the verbal feud, perked up. "Hey guys, I can hear the others coming."

"About time, too," Kevin said. "Let's go see what this stuff is all about."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"That...Wow."

"Yeah, cool, ain't it?" Shiroikiku said proudly. "My favorite."

"Uh, what's the deal with the little gray bunny turning into...uhm..."

"Oh. Well, makes a cute ship, no?"

"But I mean, the mass conservation..."

"Hey, it's anime."

"Uh, well, the girl is a bit of a, um, babe I guess... Wouldn't want to be the guy, though. She seems pretty pissed about something."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Okay, now explain why the guy turns into a girl when he..."

"It's a curse. See."

"Now it's cold water. He, uh, whatever, turns back when she gets hot

water."

"Yep."

"So what if she gets into lukewarm water? She become a hemaphrodite?"

"Better yet, what if he, er, she gets pregnant?"

"Oh, for Kwannon's sake, dincha ever hear of suspension of disbelief?"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Why is this funny?"

"Hee hee. I don't know. It just is."

"Pleased to meet you, Bruce."

"You too, Bruce."

"Ex-parrot, anyone?"

"Not at all a well cat, to come back from the trip and find a dead cat would be so--anticlimatic."

"Yes, yes."

"Oh, god, don't get me started," strained giggles, "on the huge," titter "soiled," tee hee, "BUDGIES!" Apoleptic laughter.

"He's going to piss his pants, he is."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Those blonde and brunettes between 16 and 19 and a half can spank me anytime."

"Pervert."

"Oh, yuck, I'm not going to sit next to you."

"Hey, you come here."

"No."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Hmm, anyone know about the flight speed of an African versus a European

Cyclone?"

"Nope. Coconuts were good."

"Could it carry a coconut?"

"Help, I'm being repressed! Maybe we ought to start yelling that next fight."

"Yep."

"Any idea on whether the Regis was a hamster and the Regent smelt of elderberries?"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"You seem like a decent fellow, I'd hate to kill you??"

"Sure. Zentraedi turned out to be okay, didn't they? Even the Robotech Masters people, even though you can never really tell what gender they are."

"I resemble that statement."

"You would. You're not a clone."

"They'd resent it."

"Shut up. I'm watching the fight. You keeled my father, prepare to die."

"S'all right. I like those shrieking eels."

"What's with all this political analysis anyway? We're guerrillas, not Marxists."

"Shut UP! I'm watching the fight! That's an order!"

"Ooo, testy, Lieutenant."

"You betcha, Rutherford."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Aux armes, citoyens--"

"Oh, that. I think it follows with something like the enemy hiding in the underbrush and snorting and grunting or something."

"How would you know that, Kevin?"

"I speak pretty good French. Sort of like the literal translation."

"Will you shut up??? This is a classic we're watching!"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Some time later brought on some fascinated observation.

"Wow, is he doing what I think he's doing?"

"I think he's doing what you think he's doing."

"Aww, Gerald's crying."

_Sniffle._ "Shut up, Malcolm, or I'll kick your teeth in." More sentimental noises came from the mass on the couch. "It's so damned sad. Rick's still in love with the girl, but he can't let her husband get caught and so now he's..." Sniff. "God, I loved this movie. We used to play all the old ones at home all the time. Nothing like an old black-and-white."

"Bogey, that was the dude. Knew you'd like it."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

They staggered out in the late night into the mall corridor, much later.

"That...that was really bad for my mind." Miranda blinked glazed eyes at the

tiles.

"Yeah, great, wasn't it?" Sherry said cheerfully.

"Uh, Kevin's still in there. I think he's trying to replay the British comedy tapes." Malcolm nudged his lover in her shoulder.

"Really? Ah, let him. Which ones?"

"I think the one with the penguin."

"Let him."

"What, you mean you want him ever weirder than already?"

"Weird is good. I like him weird. I like everyone weird. If we were all weird, the Invid could never figure us out."

"It's two a.m. If he wants to be exhausted for hunting detail tomorrow, that's his business. I'm going to bed." Gerald stomped past them to the

men's side.

"Has Dennis been on security watch all this time?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's been sulking. Gave him something to do besides whine about our unprofessionalism."

"Oh, well," Miranda yawned. "Hey, Gwen, let's go to bed."

Rutherford, bedecked in a black sweater that showed off her cleavage and heightened her flaming hair, sighed and followed them into the curtained entrance of the women's half.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Uh, Kev, you want that button." Matthew yawned deeply and covered his mouth.

O'Shea's eyes widened. "So that's the play button. Thanks."

**One month later, late April 2045**

_And these are the days when our work has come asunder_

_And these are the days when we look for something other_

**--U2**, "Lemon"

First Lieutenant Matthew Ulm looked down at the message on the transported glass cafe table, the all too-familiar sour taste of fear in his throat. He sighed.

Second Lieutenant Dennis Zinnert regarded him steadily over the surface. "Let me guess."

Ulm nodded. "Invid got a town near Danville. Only reason we know it is that the resistance came in and found the place stripped of all human life. More, three other towns nearby had the same thing happen to them. One anti-Invid town was levelled. The rest in the area are running to the military, hoping they're going to protect them. Only thing it's doing is making it easier for the Invid to find resistance."

"Guilty party is either that damn great big stilt hive thirty miles east of Hannibal or that dome near Lafayette. Invid takeovers have been in a pretty rough radius from those spots."

Ulm nodded and took in another breath. "I take it you knew Major Catharine Howell."

Dennis nodded. "She was one of the Icarus team that managed to suvive the LaGrange Massacre. I got the new Cyclones from her. Good leader."

"She was killed two weeks ago." Dennis dropped his sassafras tea, the liquid sloshing out of the mug onto the surface of the table.

"God. What..."

Matthew sighed. "Looks like her group was caught by the Invid. Her Legioss was dismembered and crushed. What was left wasn't...recognizable."

Dennis went white. "You know what that means."

"Oh yes. I heard about the Viper's Nest as well as you. Somebody important in the enemy ranks really didn't like Major Howell. At least the rest were only just killed. Howell was tortured."

Dennis rubbed his forehead.

"At least we've managed to keep low since Quincy was wiped. Nobody seems to know we're still around. We haven't seen any major action or attacks since then. Once we begin anti-Invid operations again, that's going to change."

"You're right, though, Dennis. We can't hide forever. The old Niemoller saying."

"'And then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out.'" Zinnert quoted. "We need to get back up to strength, though. Even with our seven former invalids and a couple new guys we're only a little over half our old manpower. I've seen them practicing though, getting back their skills. God, I wish we had a combat simulator."

"Sorry, us hicks lack a few necessities." Dennis scowled. Matthew's bearded face grinned. "So damn much fun making fun of you it hurts sometimes."

"I can imagine," Dennis drawled, annoyed.

Matt sobered. "Because there's not much left on the planet that's fun anymore."

A muffled rumble increased in volume over their heads. Both officers startled, then shrugged. The rumble became a boom, a screech and a sudden silence, broken by shouts and swearing.

"Must be Pierson's turn at Cyclone training." Dennis sighed. "Not the most gifted mecha pilot under the sun, for certain. Good markswoman though." Matthew nodded. "That lover of yours seems to have done a fair job of that at least."

"She's only had the ability to try the conversion process for a couple weeks. This," Ulm tapped the missive, covertly handed to him on a supply trip to neutral Rantoul by a contact, "is the first news we've gotten since you returned. A comset would've been nice."

"On my list."

"Do it. Yesterday, if you can. We need one."

Dennis nodded.

The engines on the upper level roared again, with similar cacophonic results. Ulm winced.

"I don't know about you, but that noise is beginning to give me a migraine. Let's get outside."

Dennis rose from his seat. "Best idea I've heard yet."

"Doubt the Invid have found any reason to go around here recently. Good reason to go fishing anyway."

Dennis made a face, as he wandered toward the garage exit. "Radioactive fish. Nice."

"No, crater's clean, so's the fish. Toximetered it. It's edible, and a damn good excuse for goofing off. I do wonder about Invid activity. No such animal here in this area. Don't know if that's a good or bad sign for us."

"Let's not get ridiculous. No Flowers," Dennis snorted. "No resistance activity. No detectable Protoculture activity. No population to enslave. Let's get the hell outside."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii......_

_vhki-kiv!hki vthgu ee-iiiiiiiiii ki!ki!chqu' iiiiiiiiiiii kvth iwqu-hkiiiiiiiiiiiiii....vhki-kiv!h..._

The litany trilled through her mind as the Iigiai and Torab to either side of her bounced response to response to response, a constant survey of the Earthen terrain they went over, quick as sound. It could be described as language only by the most extreme definition. It conveyed primitive impressions and decisions from one to the other neurons of the Hive, and as for the rest, it did not even touch the ears. Only the Malorosm and above were capable of the full range of expression. The rest did not need it. The Hive was one, and knew all a neuron knew.

Or had been, Oryo'i thought to herself, for once certain there was no secret observer of her thoughts. In the background of her mind, the high, monotone trill of the iigaari continued, countered by the slightly deeper protoconcepts of the gurab'pa. Of the entire seven Iigiai and four Torab, only she was able to observe as well as be part of the Hivesong.

Below her lay flyspecks of human dwellings, which she passed over in a instant. She knew the town already: she had been part of the division that had monitored the redirection of the humans within to a opredti farm. Shkud, for once, had been pleased with the results.

_Two lunar cycles_, she thought. She had been working that long to renew her image in Shkud's eyes, trying to escape this benighted, filthy world and its even more benighted, filthy populace with its occasional injections of T'sentrati and Tiresian foulness. From the time she had dropped from the Orbital Hive to the planetary surface and her new station, she had hated every nanosecond.

Ah, hate. Now that was an interesting if unpleasant feeling. Perhaps if she got the chance she ought to discuss it with her cohorts Miragai and Iagur, the other Solugi in her hive. They did not seem to be seeking her company, however. Perhaps Shkud had given them directions on her demotion via the Brain.

Clouds swirled around the dark-gray and vermillion Gamun, and for the slightest time her front viewport was sheathed in opaque white. It then dropped away as Oryo'i and her command burst out of it, trailing wisps behind them.

Far below, the land unscrolled. She scanned over it visually, noting the raw new green tint to the foliage that had erupted over the past half-lunar cycle. In the distance, to her right, a small round lake lay, reflecting the sun like a silvery optic.

Her pale brows suddenly crimped. _What was that?_ Deferentially, she allowed the alien hail to her to enter her mind.

_Hail_, she murmured.

_Greetings, Solugi Oryo'i._ It wasn't Shkud, for certain. She ignored the thought and concentrated on her visitor. It was smooth and controlled as metal; that alone told her it wasn't her superior.

_And to you, Kulagi Asaav. What do you wish?_

_To speak with you._

Oryo'i was surprised. A Kulagi ordinarily did not show an interest in a Solugi not under his or her command. _For what, my lady?_

_I wish to tell you that not all of my brethren agree with Shkud's verdict. You made a mistake but it was a mistake with good intentions as regarding the Hive. Furthermore, my brother tends to...be presumptuous. I see devolving or demoting a subordinate with your particular talents to be unecessarily wasteful._

_I was demoted, Lady Asaav. With good reason, your pardon._

_Perhaps. Perhaps not. I wish to negotiate your return to your former_

_station._

Oryo'i was so surprised by this sudden proposal that the Gamun rocked a bit, prompting a brief change in the Hivesong around her. _What? Your pardon._

_This has gone on long enough. You have learned a lesson, if lesson it was, Solugi. The appropiate thing now is to resume your status. However, if I do negotiate your return to the Orbital Hives, I wish an exchange._

_Yes?_

_You will, of course, deem it appropiate to do something that I want. I will see about your transfer as soon as I can. Please consider. Farewell._

The connection was broken, leaving Oryo'i to return to her hive bemused.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii....._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Oh, shit, Invid! Stop everything!" Fred's voice boomed out of the newly functioning intercom, nearly scaring them out of their wits. Amanda screamed to a stop, leaving a smoking trail of rubber down the mall tiles. Gerald ran over and helped her switch the protoculture radiation off. They crouched down for several minutes of deathly quiet eternity, Gerald swearing in something that wasn't English. Back where Mandy's run had started, Kevin was down on the ground, his eyes closed in tension.

Finally, Fred said, "They passed overhead. It's all right, Gwen says. The bugs were in high-altitude and apparently on their way somewhere else. Too far away to detect anything." Gerald sagged in relief and got back up.

"God, I hate it when that happens." He rummaged around in the thigh pocket of his coveralls, his off-color hair glinting in the muggy light coming through the skylights. "Hope I didn't break it."

Amanda got for the briefest second a glimpse of something gold. "What the heck was that you were saying?"

"Good ol' Zentraedi, Zentran dialect. What it was you don't want to know. Learned it from someone I knew. Real bathroom mouth, but a great guy."

Kevin shakily got up. "Almost messed my pants when Fred started yelling like that. Worse than when Mandy tries to change modes."

Mandy gave him a raspberry, and the tension was broken.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_And you don't know if it's fear or desire_

_Danger the drug that takes you higher_

**--U2**, "So Cruel"

Kevin wandered back towards the showers, intent on cleaning up and getting ready for dinner. Trying to teach Amanda how to change modes was an exhausting job, and having that patrol pass overhead had not helped his mental stamina. Amanda seemed to think the Cyclone was out to eat her when the process started. She always forgot to stand up, which made for a pretty mess when the thing got snagged in between modes--not to mention all the bruises she accumulated.

Weariness aside, he kept an eye out, and his posture distinctly evolved a slink. Maybe he would be lucky.

He wasn't.

"Oh, hello, Kevin," Gwen said casually. There was the ever so slight suggestion of a purr to her voice. It reminded Kevin of the local cats when they had something to eat. "Nice to see you."

"Hi Gwen." He continued past her, looking for the shower door. He twitched when he felt the pressure of her hand on his shoulder. It seemed to burn all the way to the skin.

"Scary bit, wasn't it, hon?" she whispered.

"Uh...Yeah," he managed, trying not to let his breathing go too fast. He wanted out. Last time, she'd gotten far with him, way too far. How he'd managed to get out before--He wasn't supposed to be like that, he wasn't... But the sweat was already beginning to trickle down his back. So was her hand.

He whirled to push her away and actually found her up against him, which was triggering an entirely alarming and compelling set of instincts in his flesh.

"D--don't y-you k-know when to leave...me...alone?" He gulped, losing the fight with his breath and his rampaging heart. His will was beginning to go too.

"Why, Kevin?" The huge amber eyes gazed into the blue. "You can't really be gay, can you?" Her lips, five inches from his, parted and moved upward.

He stared at them, maddened. With a surge, he shoved her violently away and rear-first onto the floor, and dashed into the shower room. His body slammed against the other side, barricading it.

Gwen panted on the floor, wiping sweaty red hair out of her face, miserable. So much for trying, she thought. But the way he'd reacted, Gwen had seen before, usually in more successful and pleasurable scenarios.

"Maybe he's bi or something," she muttered. "Why hasn't he told his boyfriend yet, if he wants me gone?"

Limping, she got up, deciding that her infatuation aside it might be good to leave off. As she knew intimately well, jilted lovers in positions of power were a Bad Thing to cross. One of these days Kevin would spill the beans, and she'd be an ex-Elm pretty damn quick. No matter her shooting skills.

Her fist slammed down on her thigh. But she had been so danged close! Tears of frustration beaded in her eyes as she left.

Back behind the door, Kevin crouched on the floor, one shaking hand before his own.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The next day, Mandy wearily unhelmeted. It had been a long day. First, she had drawn PK detail and had to help Malcolm take care of breakfast for the increasing population of the mall, then she had spent another two hours doing target practice with a UV-light practice H-90, then after some of the newcomers were done, had spent a few more hours roaring up and down the mall corridors, trying to learn how to cleanly switch modes on her Forager. Nonetheless, her soul was singing with triumph.

_I did it! I DID it!_

She remembered what it'd been like; how at long last she'd not panicked and managed to stand just as the Cyclone suddenly rocketed upward toward the ceiling and as the front farings had whipped up and connected with her CVR chest plating. She had almost wet her pants when she felt the shift in weight as the wheels and seat had locked into position on her back almost instantaneously. Before Amanda had hit the ground, she had gone from riding a motorcycle to wearing one.

The sensation was like being painlessly eaten alive by a metal origami--origami something-or-other, anyway. She couldn't decide which of Shiroikiku's collection suited.

Gerald had made her do it several more times after that. And she had. Successfully. Within an hour she was doing some low-grade hovering and flying within the center court of the mall. He had sucked on his lip, shook his shaggy head, and smiled a bit bemusedly.

"I don't believe it, but you seem to've gotten the knack. Guess it all decided to fall in place at once."

She laughed in delight, hovering ten feet above his head.

"Come down now and get out of that thing. You might attract the Invid if you go for much longer."

I have got to tell Matthew about this! She half-ran down to the women's room, disarmoring and unzipping the suit to reveal her sweat-soaked coveralls on the way.

Shiroikiku had just gotten off security duty and was lounging on her bed, wading through the pages of a Glenn Cook paperback. She looked up as Amanda entered; the contrast between her scalding blue-and-pink hairdye and the dead black of the spread she had found was a thing to behold.

"Sherry, where's Matt? I've just managed to shift modes. I need to tell him I wasn't a total loss."

Sherry grinned and gave her a thumbs up. "We'll make a good little soldier out of you one of these days. I think he's out fishing at the hole in the ground."

"The crater? Okay. You think it's safe enough to go after him?" She began shuffling through a chest of drawers for her clothing.

"Should be if he went down there, the Invid scare yesterday regardless. His intuition's pretty good on this sort of thing, no matter what El Anallo thinks." She winked. "Be back by dogfood time."

Mandy was already out of her dirty coverall and into a clean one, and was transferring various precious objects to the numerous pockets on it. "Gotcha. I want to actually get outside." Sherry grinned and watched her.

"I know. It's gorgeous." Amanda groaned in a-don't-remind-me tone and was out the doorway. Sherry noticed in passing how even the filthy coverall was folded neatly and placed on a chair, and the millitary neatness of Mandy's green-and-yellow bedspread. She found it amusing. During her short tenure with the Robotech Expeditionary Force Jupiter Group, Sherry had been continually upbraided for living conditions that had looked at best like something a Karbarran might have liked--that is, if the Karbarran had acted as bestial as he had looked. At worst, Shiroikiku Doi's quarters were nothing short of catastrophic.

A couple of minutes later, Malcolm poked his head inside. "Hey babe." She batted her eyes coyly at him. "Didn't I see Hell's Daffodil just run for the hills?"

"Yep. She went to see the Lieutenant." Malcolm sucked in a breath.

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"O'Shea went after him too." Sherry sucked on her lips as the implications became clear.

"Oopsie. You think they might be doing a little tete-a-tete?" Malcolm shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. She might be in for a shock, though."

"Well, it's not like it's not anything unlike what she knows we've been doing." She winked and wriggled against the covers provocatively. Malcolm wolf-whistled, then tutted.

"No no no, Dinner's cooking, no distracting the chef."

"Damn!"

"Maybe tonight."

"Certainly hope they're not up to anything. She's not that openminded."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Mandy wheeled her Cyclone through the phantasmagoria of spring vegetation mixed with building shells, a huge grin on her face as she sniffed the air. She tilted her head as she heard birdsong and recognized it. Dolza's devastation and the wars nonwithstanding, the common robin seemed indestructible.

Her smile faded and she touched the scar on her cheek and felt the wobbliness in one ankle. So had her home, her baby sister, her father. The feeling had been in the town of her birth that if they were inoffensive enough, the Invid would ignore them. Although the Invid had arrived for the first time when she was eight, for most of her life they had been distant monsters, the stuff of bedtime nightmares. It had all changed that horrible day last November. Now the fact that this time last year they had begun to tear up the garden to prepare for planting was as dead as her former life.

She sighed and looked up, green eyes blinking, The cerulean sky of afternoon, still beautiful, was now poignantly sad.

Up ahead was Ulm's favorite fishing spot, and through the newly leaved shrubbery of the margin she could see the metallic glint of water. She hadn't thought a body of water that new could contain life, but Ulm said it was surprising what waterfowl brought in on their feet, especially over thirty-four years.

She could also hear soft voices. She was upon them before she realized who they were. At that same time, her CVR boot smacked against a hidden piece of rubble.

The conversers whirled or sat up, eyes wide, then relaxed.

"Hey, there," Matthew said. "Come join the party."

"I was going to ask that," she said sheepishly. She made her way through the last glassy ruins and into the clearing. "Is it safe?"

"Er, what do you--" Matthew began, then began to chuckle as the pink tint washed up her cheeks. "No, nothing of the sort is going on, I assure you."

Kevin, lying on the ruins of a wall, looked up, smiled and waved.

Matthew was seated Indian-fashion next to a young maple, attention on his fishing rod, and he was in a prime position to see the young woman walk into their spot.

And that was what she was, he realized with a bit of surprise. Looking at the stride, the posture, the gaze, and the face, it was obvious she'd matured over the past few months. He had found a frightened girl. Perhaps he'd only found the last dying shreds of a child that had been torn apart by the massacre and that had run, mortally wounded. Or perhaps her experience with the Elms had altered her, but she had crossed that breath-thin, indefinable line that had separated child from adult.

_Now,_ he thought, I_'ve got to see that the young woman can make it through this war._

Out loud, he said, "Have a seat."

"Sure." She propped her mecha and sat down on the wall, looking out over the

lake.

"Sun," Kevin sighed. "God, I missed it. I need a tan. I'm so pale I look damn near dead." Mandy nodded.

"I just get more freckles. It's disgusting."

"It's cute," Matthew said.

"No it isn't." Matthew rolled his eyes and grinned, his russet hair standing up in spikes thanks to the breeze, except for the bald spot on top.

"Hey, you know what?" Mandy suddenly said. "I finally changed modes without splattering myself all over the Bergner's storefront. That's what I came out here for, actually. I thought you guys needed to know the time wasn't wasted on me."

"I'll get the champagne."

"Matt, you yourself said that after three decades it was going to taste like cat--"

"Figuratively, Kev. Congraulations, Mandy. If you keep up, you'll probably in the front line with the rest in August. Whether that's a reward is up to debate."

"Maybe sooner. I've got the bit on flying."

"Quick. But as Kevin will tell you and as you probably found out at Quincy, practice isn't exactly like the real thing. You have room for error in practice, but in battle one decision can mean the difference between being alive and being a corpse. Believe it or not, I've got an interest in keeping you and the others alive."

"Yeah. I know, Matt. Thanks." She sat a while, braiding the hair out of her face, feeling the breeze from over the lake lift the rest into a sunny mess. For all that it had been conceived in horror, fire, and disaster, it was a somber, peacefully quiet place, and with two people she trusted the feeling was amplified. A thought hit her. "Matthew--uh, Lieutenant Ulm?"

"Hmm?"

"Why--why do you run the Elms ah, well, why don't you--"

"Turn the place into a little Gestapo gang the way all good millitary outposts should be?" he asked wryly. She was embarassed, but he looked thoughtful and after a second said, "You know, that's a very good question. Why do I?...

"I suppose a lot of it has to do with my experiences in the Southern Cross, to be frank." He tried to smooth down his hair with little success. "That army was so hierarchical, and so corrupt, it virtually had the seeds of its own destruction in it. I was a Valk flier, and I saw far too much of the crap that went down there. Between Leonard needlessly sacrificing troops to satisfy his hate for aliens, the personal agendas each segment of the army had out for other segments, the bureaucracy, and the total inflexibility of the command structure--well, small wonder there wasn't anything left after the Masters. We couldn't have thrown spitballs against the Invid to save our lives." He sighed. "The only leader in the lot worth anything was Emerson. If he'd survived, who knows?..."

"Dennis said something like this can't work."

"Dennis is full of it," Kevin snapped.

"Easy, she's asking a legit question. And never mind Lieutenant Zinnert, he simply comes from a different school of belief and thought than I do. In his own mind, he thinks he's doing things correctly.

"But the bit about the running things... Actually, it can and had worked. The German Bundeswehr--the People's Army--of the late twentieth century granted quite a lot of personal initative to soldiers in an effort to avoid the kind of mistakes made with the Nazis earlier. And they did it effectively. So it isn't impossible to do. And that's why I'm still here. I suppose I could've rejoined the REF and the Icarus mission, but I see too much of exactly the same thing there, and all the weaknesses they have. I think our way has a better chance against the occupying forces."

Matthew often made references that her limited education had not prepared her for, but she knew full well her limits and managed to get the gist.

"So it can work, you mean?"

"That's what I said. I personally believe that if you respect the intelligence of your suobordinates--they can help you in ways a hierarchical command structure won't let its soldiers help. Plus, they'll respect you the more for it. And frankly, none of you are stupid."

"Speak for youself," she sighed. "I feel stupid, most of the time."

"You ain't," Kevin murmured, his heavy field boots hanging over the end of the wall. "Trust me on that. Just because you never got past the sixth grade's got nothing to do with not having any brains to work with. And you've got lots. Heck, you could ask Miranda and she'd probably be glad to teach you."

"You know," Ulm said, "that sounds like a pretty good idea...." He slowly reeled the line back in and prepared for another cast.

Mandy looked down the wall towards Kevin's end. Her forehead crimped. "Kevin, are you all right?"

"Wha--? Sure I am. Why do you ask?"

Amanda was visually getting a different story. Something was drastically changed with his attitude. He did not at all look or act well, and the usual irrepressible demeanor was gone.

"Look, are you sure? You look awful. How much sleep did you get last night, and were you buried and dug up somewhere in there?"

"Mandy, I'm _fine_."

Amanda sighed, reached over, and patted what portion of his head she could reach. "I'm just worried about you, Kevin. You don't look so good. Besides, it's been half a year and I've never seen you like this before." Kevin shrugged as much as he could lying down.

"It's personal problems, Mandy," Ulm quietly told her. "Nothing that can't be taken care of on his own. He's just going through a rough spot."

"Ah," Mandy said quietly. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Kevin said.

"Can I ask what?" He shook his head. The light shattered off the lakewater and glistened off his black hair.

"It's kind of private. The only person that really needs to know is Matthew."

"Oh--" she started, putting two and two together. "I can leave--"

"Oh, sit down. You're not interrupting anything that can't be later resumed. Besides, we like you."

Mandy sighed in relief. For a long while, nothing was said, as the sun slipped towards their backs and the light gradually grew yellower. She inspected the newly sprouting plants by her armored feet .

"Heyyy, look at that."

Kevin's head popped up. "Look at what?"

"Oh, just the first dandelions I've seen this year. You don't need to get up. I just kind of like them."

Kevin's head had dropped back down but he rotated it towards the direction she was facing. "Huh, you're right. There's a few little yellow flowers there."

"Dad always used to say they were weeds. But I liked them anyway." Her voice grew dreamy. "They looked so pretty on spring mornings, and when they went white I always liked blowing them around as a little kid."

Ulm made a grunt. "Who didn't?" He concentrated on his line. A couple of ducks whirred overhead, quacking noisily.

"My elementary school had a bunch of old books, printed in the '80s or '90s, and I read how dandelion roots could go down twenty feet and grow in the darndest places. You could try and rip them up, but they'd always grow back, and then they'd spread all over the place and never be completely wiped out." She smoothed down her hair, looking over the lake whose creation had killed thousands of living beings. She continued. "It probably sounds really goofy, but I always kind of thought that they were kind of like the people here, on this planet. It sounds completely conceited. We almost did get wiped out, after all."

There was no immediate answer from the two men, then Ulm said slowly, "No, I don't think so, hon. I've seen some amazing things happen in my life, and your metaphor seems to fit.

"Although I don't know about this time around."

"Er, what time is it?" Kevin mumbled all of a sudden.

Matthew looked down at his watch and snorted. "1720. I think we need to get back. Damn, no bites today."

**Three weeks later, May 2045**

"Hunting detail again," Matthew sighed, examining his lures. "I hate it," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Kevin groaned.

"Welllll, it does say on the chart we're next up. Guess Zinnert doens't trust the lake fish all that much."

"True. And, of course, he's right when he notes that in the next couple of weeks we're beginning operations again. It's just gotten too hairy recently for us to keep low any longer."

Kevin sighed, and keeled over on his bed, with its arrangement of almost unreally clashing sheets and spread. He stuck the pillow over his head.

"Any more news?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"The radius of attacked towns is growing. Too fast. They managed to free the people of Paducah at last, but the Shenandoah Boyz, the Sluggers, and the James Gang took pretty heavy losses. We've gotten back up to better than the strength we were before Quincy, so we're going to have to take up some of the slack the other gangs left and keep hitting at the enemy for them until they recover. God forbid that the Invid start thinking we're not going to scream if they decide to march in... And to do that, we need enough venison jerky, pemmican, and other rations to get out onto the field with." Ulm paused. "I truly wish to God I knew why of all times, the Invid are deciding to start in on us now. In a perverse way, I'm hoping it's because they got scared from us, but with those hives orbiting? Yeah, right."

Kevin had removed the pillow, and he was staring up at the ceiling. "I've no idea. Doesn't at all seem like the usual M.O. And I've been wondering about it for years. The fact that only now they're starting in on the prior occupation stuff makes it only the more bizarre."

Matthew slumped over on his chair. "And here I thought you'd have some bright ideas." He looked down at his flies, then shoved them back into his tackle box, then shut and pushed it underneath his drum-tight dark-blue bed.

"Nope. Afraid not. I'm as in the dark as you, mon freur."

Kevin rolled over and picked up one of the miscellaneous items he'd collected on his bedside drawers, then began idly toying with it. He stared down at the gleaming red and white stripes of the die-cast Valkyrie as he began to shift it through to Gerwalk mode. Once done, he set it back on the table, where the lamplight glinted off the five-inch high model, and stared at it for a long while.

"You got that in the toy store last week, didn't you?"

Kevin roused himself, then nodded. "As I told you sixteen hundred times earlier. This is a first-generation model, right?"

Matthew stared down at the ground, then nodded. "Yeah...it was. It was." He sighed heavily.

"That was the commemorative model made to celebrate the SDF-1's launch. I remember begging my mother and bawling my eyes out because she wouldn't buy that same toy for me. I especially remember it because two days later I saw on the news the launch--and the Zentraedi arriving." He paused then for a very long time, as he watched the agile hands of the younger man reconfigure it back into the shape of a foot-high red-and-white robot. "So much water under the bridge since then...and now I see you of all people messing with it. That's what started me thinking..."

"Lieutenant?" Kevin asked quietly. Matthew startled; Kevin very rarely used his title. The scout's blue eyes were gray with worry as he looked over. Matthew smiled, and gently punched him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Kevin, just the recollections of a middle-aged going on old fart going here."

He rose to his feet. "We've got to get our equipment together. D'you know of anyone free we can bring for some extra firepower?"

Kevin grinned hugely, as he rose, setting the model back to its old home. "Well, let's see, according to the list, there's... What about our favorite mascot?"

"Mandy again?"

"Hey, the girl can shoot, and she's more or less free duty-wise that slot. Thank heaven we've got some more people to share the work. I can think of less suitable people--if you know what I mean." The grin dribbled away and his voice dropped. "Speaking of which, I think the interest has dropped off."

"Good."

"Well, let's go outside and get some food and pop the question."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Yes! I get to go with you two?"

Matthew smiled. "Oh course."

Mandy certainly didn't seem annoyed by the prospect. Kevin smiled and dug into his serving of fish and ramen noodles as he watched the other two talk in the day's unofficial mess area. Due to the glorious weather outside, they were seated near one entrance on the benches there, with the doors flung wide to the outside and letting in the fresh air. One of the local cats stalked nearby and past them. While not tolerating human contact, the animals had pulled something of a truce with the Elms, what with all the food for free.

Somebody'd also brought their new/thirty-five year-old stereo player into the entranceway, and something from a classic CD, _The Downward Spiral_, was vibrating the glass. It had to be Shiroikiku's choice--only she played music like that at that sort of volume. He could catch her psychedelic hair out of the corner of one eye and her loud hoot as she shared a joke with Gerald. Yep, something about "--baka didn't even get through her thick skull the pig was actually a guy. Imagine what her reaction's gonna be like later..." Gerald was laughing uproariously. She'd apparently managed to convert him to her personal anime cult of three.

Several of the other Elms that were not on duty were also there, enjoying the breeze and eating lunch. One of them was Gwen. She studiously ignored him and the Lieutenant.

_Hmmm_, he thought. _Very interesting. She's kept clear of me recently. I think maybe that veiled remark Matt dropped her a couple weeks ago told her to ease off. He said she turned dead white and right after that kept away._

He sighed. He could feel another emotion contrasting a little with the generalized sensation of relief. He prodded at it.

_Regret? Uh-oh..._

The terrible feeling was that what she'd almost accomplished with him had done things to him that still...burned.

_No. I can't be like that. No..._ Biting his lip, he turned his attention back on the others.

"...Well, you know the situation with us and why we need it, so we need to get a lot of meat fairly soon so we can start operations by the appointed time. We've already taken a lot of time to get back on our feet, Mandy. Maybe too much, I'll grant Dennis that. Your arrival was only the beginning of the current situation. Once we start making hits again...we will no longer have the luxuries we've had here before. So it's now or never."

Mandy tucked up her knees and looked thoughtful. "How long will this take?"

"No more than three days. Everything on fusion, and we'll be using conventional weapons to hunt with. Of course, we're going to be taking along the H-90s and a full payload for the Cyclones--that recent Invid flyover may mean we might get surprises both here and where we'll be. If not Invid, maybe Inorganics."

"...Yike."

"Yep. Believe it or not, you're one of the more competent markspersons, so we're going to make you useful. I don't know when you're going to be fully functional on the Forager yet, so this is your chance to shine."

Mandy nodded and yanked on a braid. "Gotcha, Matthew. We're going tomorrow?

Ulm nodded.

"Zinnert's in command then. The rest will be able to hold down the fort for a lousy couple days."

Amanda finished off the last scraps of her food, then said slowly, "Lieutenant--what if we do get 'surprises'?"

Kevin shrugged and answered for him. "Not very likely. How much attention do you think a couple or three humans running on fusion is going to draw?"

She looked thoughtful. "Putting it logically, as Miranda likes to say when she grills me on my readings on philosophy, not a whole lot. But you've got to understand," she said, looking from one to the other earnestly, "I know firsthand that logic said the Invid wouldn't take interest in a lousy little neutral town either." She looked down. "Well, you both know logic lied, or I wouldn't be here."

"I know, hon. But it's not that likely. Start packing your goodies--we're probably going to leave at 0600 tomorow."

_And I sure hope logic stays truthful this time,_ Kevin thought. _Because everything else logical is going down in flames._


	4. Chapter Four

**Dandelions: Chapter 4 of 9**

The dawn was turning the beaten parking lot and the east facade of the ancient shopping mall a molten coral by six a.m. Figures were beginning to move inside the building's lower level, and wafting from the inside was the faint scent of cooking grease as Malcolm prepared the day's breakfast. From the ramp that led down below the lot and building to the parking garage, the rattles of Gerald and Sherry's efforts on the mecha was already starting. When operations began again, having the Cyclones working at top form was a major priority. The problem was that the population had now grown to thirty-nine, which obviously was far more than the arsenal of eighteen Cyclones that the Elms core had arrived here with, even despite any equipment the arrivees came with.

More mecha had been procured through some adept wheeling and dealing with the Terre Haute underground and careful bargaining with their load of goods, but not all of them had been in very good shape. Furthermore, most of them were the old-line variety of the first Invid occupation that could run only on gasoline or Protoculture, the former which the group did not have in any large amount and the latter which was a veritable magnet for Invid. While they didn't want to use them, the logic was that repaired, they could make wonderful bartering material. So Sherry and Gerald had elected themselves to fix them all in preparation for the fights that had to come.

The best news of the two months since their arrival was that down south, below the old university campus, a cache of Icarus Mission supplies had been found. Although it had been a year since the LaGrange Massacre had put an end to the equipment drops the Icarus had executed, the mecha were in excellent condition, and gave them an additional fifteen Cyclones to work with, among them a much-needed Samson. This brought the deficit to only six, which was not quite as dire.

However, the two had their work cut out for them.

To the east, in the yellowing light of the rising sun, a plume of dust rose, turning copper in the glow.

Facing the orange misty tail, outside the east lower entrance on the bench, a young woman in battered REF coveralls sat, the sun turning her porcelain features into fire to match with her long hair and wide eyes.

Her face was carefully immobile, her eyes fixed on the disappearing dust trail until a voice inside called her within.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Malcolm cracked the shell of the egg and laid it into the pan, the white and unbroken yolk sizzling as it contacted the grease. He looked over his shoulder to Gwen. The air was already stifling inside the revamped store which served as the Elms kitchen.

"You can start in on making the pancakes if you like. We're going to need about seventy or about. Gerald eats enough for the rest of them." Silently, Gwen nodded and turned to get the flour and butter. She passed a couple of the new arrivals whom Malcolm had also conscripted, returning with a tupperware bowl, and began the process of mixing the ingredients up. Her continued silence was not unnoticed by Malcolm.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just hot." She brushed damp-dark hair out of her eyes and bent to her work, her gaze averted. Eventually, with the same precision as she used in her marksmanship, she carefully poured out several identical-sized pancakes onto the searing griddle. Malcolm concentrated on the eggs but kept her within the corner of his eye as he did so. The interior was a constant din of frying foods, clattering dishware, conversation, and the blast of an old Pink Floyd CD playing in the background. It was difficult to converse, but finally Malcolm felt he had to try and break the frosty wall Rutherford had erected around herself.

"You're pissed because they took Mandy and not you, aren't you?"

She jerked up her head, her eyes simmering, then bent it back down. "'S'none of your business, Malcolm. Anyway, I had kitchen duty slated for this week."

"Kid's not that great a fighter yet. She's going to be better off hiding later, so I s'pose she may as well get her part done while she can. It's nothing against you, Gwen."

She wrinkled her nose--admittedly a very delicate and pretty nose, Malcolm thought to himself. The look in her eyes, however, was anything but.

_Oh-oh_, Malcolm thought. _She doesn't like the mention._

Gerald stomped in then, running a hand though his sweat-damp brown mop. "When d'you think it's going to be done?"

Malcolm groaned. "Keep a leash on the stomach, will you? It's not going to be for another thirty minutes at least. What's our wonderful leader have planned for the day?"

The big man snorted. "Mentioned something along the line of rewiring the security systems to tighten surveillance of the area we're living in. Plus he asked me and Sherry to try to fine-tune the reception in the communications array. You guys, I'm not as sure. I think a supply run to Rantoul is in order for Gwen and Miranda, though, and a tatical review on the current occupation situation for the rest of us in preparation for our return to strikes."

"Oh, fine," Gwen muttered. She gave a vicious slosh to the batter, splashing some onto the heating coils.

Malcolm wrinkled his nose as the smoke wafted up. "What's eating at you?"

Gerald snickered. "Oh, the fact that Loverboy's out where she can't back him into a--oouufff!"

Gwen's foot rocked back down from its lash into Gerald's stomach as the three other cooks' heads whipped up in shock. "Shut up," she hissed, as he curled up in pain. The fair skin was shifting from dead white to red and back, and she was breathing far too hard. "Shut the hell up or by God I'll nail you lower, I swear."

"Gwen!" Malcolm yelped. He tried to grab her arm, but her foot came whipping back and he thought better of it. Suddenly she hopped helplessly on one foot, as the other--the offending foot--was grabbed in a viselike grip.

Gerald's eyes were almost white with fury. For a second, Gwen looked down, and her own affront and frustration drained away in the heat of his rage. He did not seem--human.

Suddenly, he whipped his head against the floor with a bonk. He winced, and his eyes, when they opened again, were sane.

"God fucking damn, woman, that hurt."

Malcolm could only look at the two and realize that there seemed to be things at work that he could not see and probably never would.

"Are you two gonna...?"

Gwen hugged herself. "No. Nah. Don't tell the Lieutenant. Sorry, Gerald. But if you make fun of me like that again--"

Gerald grunted, hauling himself to his feet. "Christ, you've got a foot like an anvil."

Malcolm looked over to the others. "You didn't see this." There were vigorous nods.

_Now we're fighting ourselves. We're screwed._ Malcolm continued with his eggs and felt Gerald leave and Gwen resume cooking with a leaden heart.

_If Gwen's gonna go resent Mandy for 'taking' Kev away, and Gerald's going to do that, we're in deep shit. If it spreads to the rest, we ought to just advertise ourself to the nearest hive and say 'Come and Get It!'..._

_And with the way Gerald gets sometime...Jesus, that was only the tip of the iceberg. Sometimes I wonder--he really what he says he is?_

oooooooooooooooooooo 

It was much later.

It was somewhere in that indefinite portion between late night and early morning, when the full moon high overhead blanched the mall and the land around to a greasy silvered blue-black, the world alive with crickets and the occasional rasping cry of a nighthawk fluttering in the star-splattered skies. The night was filled with the life-drenched, timeless silence unique to spring.

Overhead, the slowly moving sparks of the Invid Orbital Hives drifted in malevolent counterpoint, nearly drowned out by the lunar radiance.

It was far past normal curfew for the Elms, but still inside, the flicker of a lantern could be seen as the sentries on duty continued their endless vigilance against attack. Someone with sharp eyes could also see the occasional movement of a figure, still up after all this time, and a fitful light left on within.

More than a quarter-mile away, completely contemptuous of the possibility of ambush, a small figure half-sat, half-crouched on a rise in the ground, surrounded by prairie growth and young trees, looking out over the direction of the forest and the ruined city. The soft night breeze lifted hair untrimmed and tangled, the moonlight turning it to platinum and glinting off the metal of cyclone armor. Barely over the breeze, an observer might have heard soft, trembling sobs.

Amanda Pierson sat, her eyes staring ahead unseeingly, her hands constantly wringing and rubbing themselves, her entire frame shuddering as to break apart.

_Please. Tell me it never happened. Please tell me it can't have happened..._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

They had made good time out of base, and by eight a.m. they were twenty miles away, deep into the forests of the old Indiana border. Ulm said the environment here was as good as any for deer and rabbit hunting, and he was planning on getting some fish in as well.

"Oh course, it's going to be non-radioactive fish. Dennis is gonna love that." Kevin snickered, his Ferret taking the bumps with ease. "Doesn't have to worry about waking up with extra limbs anymore."

Matthew groaned and tried to hit him. Kevin cheerfully veered his Cyclone out of the way.

"Yeah, but we need more along the lines of venison and whatnot. The problem with this time of year's going to be that we need to identify and avoid the does. Bound to have fawns with them." Ulm shrugged. "I just don't like the idea of killing deer period."

Mandy had to agree. While like any other person growing up in a rural area post-Rain she had had to deal with plucking chickens and help with butchering hogs, they were not tasks she had ever liked. Sometimes she wished she had been born back in the last century when one could get it off a shelf.

Matthew clunked along the old, shattered pavement of the roadway, the carrier jouncing awkwardly behind him with its cargo of a battery-operated freezer, their intended method of getting the kills back home in the May heat without their spoiling. Fortunately the Super Saber was not complaining about the extra weight, and the weather promised to be delightful. All three travelers had their jackets and armor off and were feeling the wind of their passage with relish. Amanda readjusted her goggles and raked her hair back, feeling it whip around in tangles where it hadn't been braided to keep out of her face.

Even over the engine rumble, she began to pick up a discordant noise. Eyes widening in horror, she realized what it was.

"Oh, shit, Matthew. Stop it! Not again!"

"Stop what?"

Amanda cringed as a discordant yowl destroyed the pastoral mood.

_"Immanuel Kant was a real pissant who was very rarely stable, _

_Heidigger, Heidigger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the_

_table,_

_David Hume could out-consume Shopenhauer and Hegel_

_And Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as shloshed as Shlegel..."_

It was a matter of common knowledge among the Elms that compared to all the horrific singers known to mankind, Kevin O'Shea could make them sound good. Amanda howled in theatrical pain as with a free arm swinging and his bright green jacket waving at the end of it like a demented pennant, he broke into the chorus.

_"There's nothing Neitzche couldn't teach ya about the raisng of the wrist,_

_Socrates himself was permanently pissed..."_

"Kevin, shuddup!" Mandy yelled at him. He stuck his tongue out and continued in the mistaken belief that volume would make up for talent.

_"John Stuart Mill of his own free will_

_on half a pint of shandy was particularly ill_

_Plato they say could stick it away_

_half a pint of whiskey every day_

_Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle_

_Hobbes was fond of his dram_

_And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart_

_'I drink therefore I am!'_

_Yes Socrates himself is particularly missed_

_A lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed!" _

There was a blissful silence at the end.

"Is it over?" Mandy asked. Matthew hunched over his Cyclone, shaking in silent hilarity. "That--that was horrible. Gee, Lieutenant, glad you're laughing."

"N-never mind." Ulm gulped, then burst out hooting again. "I've got to make him stop watching those tapes at one in the morning," he said, sniffling.

"And getting into the liquor store, too. There was a whole liter bottle of vodka missing last week."

Ulm wiped his eyes, replaced the goggles, and took a bounce from the road. "No, in my opinon, I think that was Sherry who stole that."

"Then what's gonna explain the fact that this idiot was wandering around last Saturday, smelling like a still and trying to do the Agincourt speech from _Henry V_? Miranda spent two days making me read that, and I don't think Henry'd do it hanging over the bannister, slobbering and--and unable to remember the next line."

"Ah, but I stole the Smirnoff's from her," Kevin interjected smugly, pulling up behind her and reaching over to swat her on the rear. There was a momentary tussle before he got away, waggling his eyebrows. She glared. "Interesting experience, but I guess I could have done without barfing up lunch the following day. Personally, I think the Branagh version was better."

"Din'cha read it?"

"Oh yeah; that and _Comedy of Errors_, _Midsummer Night's Dream_, _Romeo and Juliet_, you name it. '39 was a great reading year for me."

"Then the Invid blew my library up. Damn, well, such is life." Matthew commented, dragging behind.

"A library?" Amanda said in astonishment. "A personal library?"

Matthew shrugged. "Managed to save it after the Second Robotech War. It wasn't much, really. Lots of Shakespeare."

"When do we stop?" Kevin asked him.

"Mmmf. Another mile or so. We're going to have to walk at least another mile in order to find a spot that hasn't been disturbed by our passage before we start in on the hunting."

"Or disturbed by that noise Kevin's been making. Yuch."

"That wasn't noise!" Kevin complained.

"Yeah, and I'm the Invid Regis. The only thing worse might have been you doing the 'Lumberjack Song.'"

"Hmmm..."

"Don't even think it."

Ulm rubbed his bearded chin, his eyes sparkling. "Yep, definitely time for you to boycott _Live At the Hollywood Bowl_, I'd say."

Kevin looked martyred.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda lay on her belly in the tall grass, barely able to see over the top and into the small meadow they'd staked out. The lieutenant was lying next to her, both of their faces smeared with mottled greasepaint and feeling sticky and hot in the May sun. The camoflauging musk smelt terrible, but Ulm had said it was second-to-none for hiding human scent. They had been this way for the past half hour, their hunting rifles held before them in a ready position.

Above them, a killdeer cried. There was no other signs of life in the area.

Suddenly Matthew tensed. He carefully raised the comset to his ear and listened to the barely audible noise coming out of it. He nodded, whispered an affirmative, then cut the connection. He raised his index finger so Mandy could see.

Kevin had managed to locate a buck, and was preparing to flush it towards them.

Matthew carefully rose to his knees, followed by Amanda, guns raised.

Suddenly, a crack rang out, and Ulm and Mandy clicked off the safeties on their weapons. Almost before it was done, a brown form exploded out of the woods margin at them.

Amanda got a fragmentary vision of flashing, delicate hooves, small velveted antlers, and a snorting, foam-flecked black muzzle as her perception narrowed and she tracked the onrushing body with the gunsight. There was an isolate, crystalline moment of unity, then her finger contracted on the trigger.

_Boom._

Her body jerked as it absorbed the kickback, then the animal twisted and plunged toward the ground as if diving. There was a stunning silence, and the human predator became sentient once more.

Even as they were less than halfway toward where the buck had fallen, Kevin had made his way out of the woods. He managed to reach them as Amanda was staring down at her trophy.

The bullet had taken it in the heart, killing it instantly. The huge eyes were open, not having yet glazed over in death, and a little trickle of blood had mixed with the foam still on its muzzle. It had been a young animal, probably less than two years old. Amanda tried to look for any sense of triumph in her accomplishment and only felt a little grayness.

Kevin knelt and put his hand on the dead animal's head, then inspected the bullet's entry hole. "Good shot, Mandy," he finally said.

"Yeh, I suppose it was." She rubbed at her forehead, getting a smear of gray-green on her fingers. "Guess we need to go butcher it now."

"And get it back to the freezer," Ulm said. "We seem to be making pretty good progress."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Somewhere in the woods, something whirred.

A large bundle of what looked like a bird's nest in the forest canopy shivered, then spat forth a flexible tube, on the top of which pivoted a red glowing sensor, staring blankly.

As it did four times every twenty-four hours, it pivoted on search, doing a routine scan of the area. Suddenly it halted, clicking and focusing in a specific area, where it saw movement of a particular kind.

It stayed that way for a long time, attention on that movement, the tube supporting the sensor array occasionally swaying.

Soon, the rest of the bundle shuddered.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda tried to wipe her bloody hands off on the ground with little success. The butchering was an especially messy business, and she had not especially enjoyed watching the carcass hang by its hind legs in order to bleed it. The remainng business of viscera, skinning, quartering and storing she had liked even less. Although it was now near lunchtime, she had little appetite.

Ulm walked over to her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said shortly.

Ulm snorted. "I don't think so. You've been green the whole time." He poured some of the water supply over her hands to get the blood off. "Sorry," he said, apologetically. "I didn't know you were squeamish about it,

or I've--"

Mandy shook her head. "No, it isn't that, really. I'm a country girl, remember? Just that--" she made a face.

"What?"

"Well, it sounds stupid, but what's the difference between the Invid and us, if we both go around killing things? I don't feel much better about doing this and what the Invid are doing."

Ulm sighed. "What's the difference indeed. Welcome to moral debating, hon. If I had an easy answer to that I'd tell you right off. Do you still want to help?"

"Yeah...I guess so. Sorry."

The Elms leader gave her a quick-one armed hug. "Must've been all that philosphy Miranda tries to stuff into your noggin."

"Where's Kevin?"

"Doing his lunchtime meditation thing. Don't bug him. He likes some peace of mind, believe it or not."

"Hmm. Are there any more of those muffins Malcolm stocked us with around?"

"I think so."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The twigs were almost completely shaken off onto the ground by now. What they revealed hung there on the branch for a minute, then began to silently drop.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Kevin knelt on a little rise twenty feet away, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. Although the fresh breeze occasionally lifted the shoulder-length black hair underneath his headband and ruffled through his black shirt, his expression was completely blank, and for once, at peace. When the torrent of his usual facial expressiveness was switched off, the fine features were undeniably attractive. His hands, limp on his green-denimed thighs, still had traces of deer blood under their fingernails. He'd been that way for over five minutes now. Zazen was good at stilling qualms of doubt, the inner voices of worry that tagged the trails of so many people these particular days.

He let out a deep breath, and then abruptly, his eyes flew open, dilated in worry. Was it his imagination he'd heard something out of the ordinary, or wasn't it?...

Kevin O'Shea had not spent almost six years alive in combat doubting his senses.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Mandy almost bit through her muffin and her tongue, when Kevin abruptly caromed up from his position and said suddenly, "Get your armor on."

"What? Are you--"

"Get it on!" he nearly shouted. Matthew looked up, eyes wide, then dove for his Super Saber. Amanda never doubted Ulm's judgement, and she followed suit.

"Forget the damned undersuit, you don't need it!" Kevin snarled as she fumbled for it, then threw the outer armor at her. She slammed it on, but even as she was finishing, Kevin was already fully armored and straddling the Ferret and Ulm had disconnected the trailer from the Saber. Mandy went for her Forager too, and with the two men waited, engines off.

Three minutes passed, and nothing happened.

Mandy was taking in a breath to second-guess Kevin's alarm. She was tugging at her braid, rolling her eyes, and feeling quite annoyed about the entire situation.

Kevin drew in an abrupt breath, and gasped, his voice so distorted with fear that it wasn't recognizable: "Oh sh--"

And then horror itself was flying straight at them.

Mandy was screaming her head off, suddenly reliving her nightmare flight from the Enforcer, but this was a thousand times worse. She jammed on the ignition and reversed like the damned.

_Oh, my **GOD**!!!_

The--thing coming at them was dull gray, a maniac's dream of jointed tentacles snapping, ended with pincers, blunt tips and vicious prongs at their free ends and ended on the other in a bulbous body about four feet long and two feet wide, hovering off the ground as it rushed toward them in dead silence. Out of the center of the body a nozzle-like stalk swayed, ended in the characteristic red sensor eye of Invid mecha.

One of the tentacles at either end, flattened and ended with a spiked bulb so that it looked like a mutant tapeworm, whipped about and aimed directly at Amanda. She slammed on the power, her hair rising on the back of her neck as the huge electric bolt the spike suddenly spat grounded itself where she had been a fraction of a second earlier.

"Turn!" Ulm was roaring over the com net. "Turn and get the hell out of here!"

Although it was one of the hardest things she had ever done to turn her back on the tentacled monstrosity, Amanda complied and attempted the Earth's most extreme 180, her knee scraping the ground and the ceramic armor raising sparks as she did so. She caught a fragmented glimpse of Ulm's and O'Shea's brown and green mecha in front of her, and then beside her as she poured on the momentum.

"What was that?" she screamed.

"That was a Kraken Inorganic!" Ulm panted over the net. "It's a personnel hunter/killer unit. Silent and damned hard to locate. If Kevin hadn't heard it coming through the brush, we'd've been charbroil by now!"

"Let's get out of here!"

"No can do!" Kevin answered. "Love to, but that thing has a lock on our energy output signals now, even fusion. It won't quit following us--you want to bring that home with us?"

"What are we going to do?" Amanda cried.

"The only thing we can do--destroy it, before it gets us!"

Amanda fought down her fear, tried to rationalize how to get rid of the terror following them, and failed. "How?"

"Good question, " Ulm muttered. Her heart, already overtaxed, plummeted.

"We're dead we're dead we're dead..." she chanted in a horrified litany.

"--like hell we are!" Kevin growled. "Matthew, I've got an idea. Remember a couple years ago, when we met some of the James Gang? They were attacked by

one and lived."

"Yeah--" Ulm said. "Are you planning to do what they did?"

O'Shea grunted an affirmative.

"You're going to get your ass killed!"

"It's a chance, dammit! The Ferret's the fastest Cyclone here! I turn on the protoculture engine and lead in on in a circle, you two wait for me to come back around, and you waste it with the missiles. Right?"

"Oh God... Kevin?"

Kevin's voice dropped. "Yeah, Matt?"

"If you don't make it, and we do...it--was good to know you."

Kevin sighed. "Yeah, you too. Mandy...I'm sorry."

"Wait!" she shouted at him.

"I can't! It'll be on us in a minute! Meet me back at the campsite, in ten minutes!"

"Turn off the road, Mandy!" Ulm ordered. "Now!"

He flung the Super Saber off the road, and Amanda followed, crashing into the underbrush.

At that same moment, the characteristic noise of Kevin's fusion engine quit, replaced by the thrum of the protoculture drive. It was a sound Amanda had only heard a few times before among the protoculture-paranoid Elms, during Cyclone-pilot practice.

She shut off the engine along with Ulm, and watched the retreating Ferret. Suddenly, it exploded foward with power it did not have with only fusion propulsion, broadcasting a spectacular radiation as it did so. It was lost in a second.

"Get down!" Ulm hissed.

They dove; in seconds a shadow passed overhead, writhing a Medusa's head of tentacles. It rushed by, following the magnet of O'Shea's output.

A silent eternity passed, then Ulm whispered. "It's taken the bait. It's so busy concentrating on Kevin's engines it won't notice ours on fusion. We've got to get back to the site as soon as possible to prepare the ambush."

_Please be okay,_ Amanda thought. _I can't lose you too..._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Come on, you gruesome son of a bitch...._

Kevin could feel the wind ripping through his unprotected midsection and through the hair trailing out of the helmet as he raced down the ancient highway at full speed, free of the handicap of fusion. He glanced behind him; the Inorganic was hot on his trail, having partially retracted its tentacles for speed. However, it wasn't as fast as he over a flat surface. Good...

Now if he could get enough of a lead-time over the thing, it would be more difficult for it to catch up with him once he got into the trees: there the Kraken would have an advantage. Its design seemed to have been made for close quarter ambush in crowded environments.

_My, they've definitely gotten creative recently, haven't they?_

Of course, it already had some advantages; unlike him, it wouldn't grow tired, it had no sense of self-preservation, it had no worries about damaging itself, it was remorselessly accurate, and it would never, ever give up.

The only good thing about the entire situation was that he could probably blast the protoculture output quite a lot without getting any extra attention. If the Invid had installed such an Inorganic here, they were either confident it could take care of any disturbances by itself or they didn't come by very often and put this here instead. _Well, count your blessings and all that..._

He found the trail he was looking for at last. Engines screaming, he went off the road so hard he was actually airborne for a second and came down with a crash, the shocks taking it with enough force to break necks. He went limp in order to take the shock, then crouched over the Ferret like a jockey, urging it on to maximum speed.

A patch of underbrush to his side evaporated, and then he was past.

_Shit!_

He dared a look down at his watch. Four minutes had passed.

_I've got to give them enough time to get set up..._

He began to weave, in order to keep the Kraken's targeting system from getting a fix on him, gritting his teeth as he did so. He was, in rough relation, about northwest of where the campsite was supposed to be. He was doing fine so far, but the next part was the extremely dangerous section--he would have to go into the woods itself. He would need every bit of piloting skill he had in order to make it though--even if the Kraken didn't fry or electrocute him, he could end up wrapped around a tree, which would make him every bit as dead as if the Inorganic had done the honors, and it was at any rate its core objective. It would no longer need to worry about him...

And then would go after Matt and Mandy...

_NO!_ He swallowed at the thought and accelerated as much as he dared.

He really wished he'd never seen that old movie with the speeders and the primeval woods.

Third arc, here we go...

Then the underbrush was shattering against his bright green armor, and the scent of the forest clashed with the sour stink of fear and sweat that was reaching him even in extremity. Gouts of mulch rained behind him as the Ferret's wheels dug into the loam. He narrowly escaped crashing against a silver maple only to nearly wipe out against a black oak still scarred with the fires resulting from the Rain of Death...he had to slow down.

His left hand twisted slickly against the clutch as he rutted in a large turn against the soft earth, veering madly against the onrushing black trunks, balancing on the very edge of losing control. His momentum sailed him over a narrow creek and landed him on the far side. Fortunately, here in the shade the underbrush was lighter and less apt to be an obstruction. He snapped over a sapling, only to have another blast sear into a trunk.

_Oh, fuck, it's gaining on me! Where am I?_ Moaning, Kevin silently invoked the deities of several pantheons as he tried to remember on what leg of this hellish race he was on. If he had forgotten the immediate lay of the land, he was very shortly dead... The fine hairs on his hands rose as electricity crackled across his armor--too, too close.

Then bushes smacked against him again, and he was out in the open in a meadow.

_Yes!_ He jammed the throttle as far open as it would go, shooting across the grass as though catapulted. He dared a glance behind him, and saw the hole he had made widen further as the Kraken's body hurtled through it after him across the same clearing they had shot a deer in only two-and-a-half hours ago. Two minutes late already for the rondezvous, two minutes of infinity.

Insects splattered against his faceplate and his armor as he plunged back into the woods again, but this time he knew where the openings were, and exactly where he was going. Kevin's teeth were bared in a primeval grimace as he began the last and most terrible arc, the one that would decide his fate and two other people's with him.

He opened the communication link and managed, "Here I come--it's right after me. Three minutes ETA. Godspeed."

He let go of the clutch and left no room left in his mind other than for survival, not even prayers.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Here he comes! Get ready!"

The two Battloid suits crouched, tan and olive-green. Mandy could barely think, her mouth dust-dry, her pulse beating in her throat and temples. This quarter hour had seemed to stretch in agonizing leaps and bounds and yet seemed only momentary.

"You take this side of the clearing," Ulm advised. "I'll take the other. He's going to be coming in from the east from all appearances. Go for the eye if you can't get the main body. If you can't get that, try those flat tentacles at either end. Good luck, hon."

"You too, Matt." They took their positions, Matthew finishing fitting the rifle stock to his H-90 for full damage capacity. Then there was only the wait.

_And you too, Kevin... _

Amanda heard it, a low thrum in the suddenly deathly quiet woods, growing rapidly in volume. Quietly, she armed the GR-103 launchers and their payload of armor-piercers.

The thrum built to a roar.

Amanda tensed.

Then a green shape erupted from the eastern end, wheels blurring for all they had, the armored form on top flattened as though all Hell rode on his heels.

Amanda rocketed to her feet, shouting out the spoken codes to ready the missiles for launch.

And Hell itself exploded into the clearing, a nightmare of tubes lashing and aiming for the prey barely five yards ahead of it. Amanda targeted the staring red eye and the organic gray body, hating in that split second it and everything it stood for.

"FIRE!" she shouted.

"God--NO!" Ulm screamed, as the missiles whooshed away.

Even as she had cried the command, Mandy could see Kevin's Ferret begin to rocket upward and he begin to rise up in his seat in mode transition, and she knew she'd done something drastically wrong...

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Kevin knew he had cut things too close for comfort--in the last couple of minutes, he had gained at least two scorch marks on his Cyclone and the Inorganic had been at times a hairs-breadth from having him a shish-kebab on the thing's leading tentacle spike. However, his plan had managed to remain intact--to change modes and rocket away while his teammates took care of the thing.

Unfortunately in the heat of things, he had forgotten to tell the others.

All he could think of when he heard the armor-piercers leave Amanda's launchers, even as he rose and the front farings began their rise to attach to his chest, was: _Oops..._

The missiles sailed home.

The Kraken's side exploded.

Shrapnel blasted out, one large piece ripping into Kevin's side and hip, where the armor did not protect him. His scream of agony was drowned out in the roar of the Inorganic's combustion, and he lost his seat from the partially-altered Ferret, dashing violently against the ground twelve feet down, where he did not move. The Ferret landed some distance away, its transformation sequence aborted.

Mandy heard nothing of it over her own screams.

Although critically damaged, the Kraken was still doing a grotesque parody of floating, its tentacles lashing around like wounded serpents, sparking random discharges of energy. Fluid was leaking out of the gaping hole in its side. Above it, the eye dunkenly swayed, and for a moment, focused on Amanda.

Ulm pulled the trigger, three times, and the remains exploded into shards.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

In the present, Amanda covered her face with her hands, trying not to be sick--she had vomited so many times already that her guts ached.

_Oh, but it wasn't that that had done it, not that..._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Blood on the grass_

_And it changed my life_

**--Seal**, "I'm Alive"

"KEVIN!" she shrieked. The world tunneled, the only thing that she perceived not the crumbling remains of the Inorganic, but the figure in the green CVR armor sprawled like a dropped doll. She lunged forward.

"Amanda! NO!" Ulm shouted. She heard his tread coming up behind, but she ignored it.

_Oh please oh please no.... I'm sorry Kevin I'm sorry. Don't die!_

She was beside his side before Ulm could stop her, loosing the Cyclone from her armor, and crawling forward on her hands and knees to him, crying. He wasn't moving...

"Kevin..." she sobbed. To think his eyes closed forever was too much... She froze, her heart pounding and the sobs choked back in her throat.

One hand began to twitch. A tiny whimper, barely audible, was coming from the form.

"Kevin!" she gasped. After that fall, he was still alive--but there had to be a huge wound from that shard that hit him, maybe from others as well. She slapped out the first aid kit in her boot, and frantically opened it.

"AMANDA, FOR GOD'S SAKE GET AWAY!" Ulm roared. Good--he'd gone to shut off the Ferret's protoculture radiation, it would take him a bit, she thought distantly.

Kevin's head moved. Then, his right leg twitched, prompting a renewed scream of pain from him.

"Wait, Kevin, I'm getting the morphine!"

Her voice seemed to rouse him. Gasping in torment, he managed, "No, Mandy, don't--touch me! Please!" His hands spasmed helplessly on the ground.

"No, I'm trying to help you. You're gonna bleed to death if I don't!" She finally managed to get the ampoule in the needle, then reached down for his arm. Despite his feeble struggles, it was the matter of a second to find the big vein on the inside of his elbow below his shirt sleeve and to inject the morphine.

She did not see Ulm dash up behind, then halt, his shoulders slumping in despair.

Kevin was gasping, the quivers of agony lessening as the morphine kicked in. Amanda gently removed the helmet, wiping the hair out of his eyes. They focused on her, as he moved his head a little, gritting his teeth.

"Amanda," he said deliberately. "Matt's got paramedic training. Get away from me. Let him take care of it. Please..."

"Don't move," she said in response, unwinding the roll of sterile gauze. His injured side was facing upward, good, at least dirt and worse hadn't been ground into it. Hopefully no shrapnel or Inorganic bits were lodged in there. But from the way the black cloth of his T-shirt was growing wet and dark, he was losing blood fast. She had to do something about it before it got any worse. She grabbed hold of the shirt, preparing to slit it with the knife in order to get at the wound. It was wet, warm, and slippery with Kevin's blood, and she shuddered at the touch. However, she managed to get it open and expose his side.

"Oh, no..." he whispered, shivering.

For a few blank seconds, Amanda thought that the dye from his pants had gotten onto her hands. She kept mechanically trying to wipe the wound clean of the stuff, wrinkling her nose at the pungent, odd smell, and finally exposing the seven-inch-long but luckily fairly shallow gouge in his side. She lifted the gauze pad she had perpared to put it on the wound, trying to use her other hand to press the damage closed.

Then she saw the color of the pad where her hands had touched it.

She blinked, then looked back down again.

The substance she had thought had been dye was not only on her hands and smeared on his skin, but on the pad, on the gauze, and she saw it beginning to puddle underneath Kevin's body and trickle out of the shrapnel tears. She lifted her eyes to the tiny needle wound she had made.

It had beaded there too.

Her eyes locked blankly on it, she began to breathe hard, and slid her gaze up to his face.

The blue eyes were wide with anguish that not even the morphine could remove, and fastened on her.

Amanda put her face down in her green-smeared hands, and blessedly the world went away.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Not him... _

Her hands were covering her eyes, feeling the tears slide between them, and she shook.

_It can't be him... _

The same color; the same smell, like warm compost. The same stuff that had burst out of the Enforcer when Ulm had shot it, the same fluid that had leaked out of the remains of the Scout's eye when she had shattered it at Quincy. It had been coming out of Kevin's wounds as well.

Alone in the moonlight, Amanda wept brokenly.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

She had blacked out most of the time following that. She remembered fragmented pictures of Ulm finishing the stitching and bandaging, bracing Kevin's neck and spine; the harried radio to base. Matthew splattering what Kevin had spilled over the rest of his armor and exposed skin, then taking chilled deer blood out of the freezer and soaking that into the bandages. A shattered memory of the lieutenant gently shaking her, begging her to tell a story of a Scout and Kevin's proximity to its destruction.

Somehow, she had gone along with it.

She remembered very little after that; Miranda and a couple of new Elms arriving, Ulm murmuring something about "shock" and "trauma" to them, and the others hooking up the freezer and Kevin to their Cyclones. Kevin had passed out in the meantime, probably from blood loss, probably for the best. Disconnected pieces of the long, agonizingly slow ride back to base, while the afternoon whiled on, and an arrival amid an uproar. A rush of activity, questions asked while she droned out the answer Ulm had given her, and a dinner which, shortly after, she had rushed to the bathroom and wrenchingly thrown up, several times.

They had left her alone after that.

And now she was out here.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Kevin was a..._

[His hands, gentle on her damaged ankle, as he and Matthew wrapped it up]

_was a..._

[Another time, fingers on her brow, as she burned up inside with fever]

_can't have been... _

["John Stuart Mill of his own free will..."]

_Kevin was..._

[His eyes hollowed with inner worry, hiding secrets he wouldn't share]

[The terrible agony on his face, emerald fluid on her hands]

_Kevin was one of **them**._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

She didn't hear the thud of boots behind her until their owner was almost upon her. She jumped, giving a shriek.

"Shhh, Mandy, it's me." Matthew's voice. She was hunched up in a semi-fetal position, shaking, hands over her eyes. She convulsed away from his touch. He ignored it and began to gently stroke her hair as though she were a frightened animal. In time, her shakes slowed, and her posture loosened.

"God...if only you'd stayed away." he said, sighing. "But you cared too much... When did that become a sin?"

"W-why?" she choked out.

Matthew sighed again. "At least everybody else is asleep." he croaked. He sounded exhausted. "What a day."

As though an afterthought, he added, "He's going to be all right. He lost a lot of blood, and he's smashed and gashed up pretty good, but he'll recover just fine."

She shuddered. Ulm put an arm around her shoulders, leaving an arm free to stroke her hair.

"Why? God, this is going to be a story."

Amanda's face was on her knees, her shakes almost gone. He continued the gentle, impersonal strokes.

"It was all a front, you know. Only way we could explain why I had to get to him first when he got hurt. Our culture doesn't allow a lot of male/male interest in each other. Not outside that. We're no more homosexual than you're a man."

"But why?" Ulm could detect the multitude of questions in that one word.

"Lots of reasons, sweetie. Lots of them. Not the least being that some of us might kill him first chance they get if they knew what he was." He stopped, then said softly. "But he's on our side. Believe me. I've known him for six years...and he would no more betray us than I would, or Miranda, or Dennis..."

"Then--then how..."

Ulm sighed. "For that, you're going to have to ask him. That's why I'm out here. He wants to talk to you."

She began to shake again, wringing her hands, trying to get off the alien blood that still coated them in her mind. "No!"

"Mandy, he begged me to."

"I'm not going." The thought of confronting Kevin--whatever he was--was completely unthinkable.

Ulm's voice grew firm. "If you don't, I've been given authority to drag you there if I have to. I'm your commanding officer, remember."

"_No_!" she repeated again, spitting out the words as the full force of the betrayal hit her. "He lied to me! You lied to me! Why the _hell_ should I care what you want of me???"

Ulm winced at that statement.

"And don't you think that those lies killed us every day we used them?" he asked, his voice filled with pain.

"No--I can't....Don't make me."

Matthew waited silently, for the inevitable reaction to the veiled threat, the If you try I'll tell... It failed to come.

Make the gamble, Ulm, he thought. If you win, you might have another person who understands... He tossed the dice.

He rose to his feet. "Come on." He started back toward the mall, not looking back. In a few seconds, he heard the thud of boot armor behind him.

_All sixes. Not bad, old man._

The infirmirary was a storeroom in back of the TV room, still filled in spots with tape and laserdisc shipments that had never been bought. Although it looked as though it could be chilly winters, fortunately it had not progressed to that point yet. The best part, considering the situation, was that it was fairly soundproof.

Ulm quietly slipped inside, Amanda behind him, and he slowly turned up the light on the halogen lantern by the bed. Even with its golden radiance, the sleeping countenance it illuminated looked dead white and sunken. One of the arms lying on top of the covers was bandaged, and both bore the marks of ugly blackish bruises up to his bare shoulders, relics of his fall.

Amanda looked down, frozen. Somehow, the issue of Kevin's alabaster pallor had never seemed more important than now. Was it just his current condition that made it seem more pronounced, or had it always been like that? With a slipping sense of fear, she realized she could not remember. No wonder he had gotten away with it so long.

And she'd even allowed him to touch her... God...

Matthew bent down by the bed. "Kevin...Kevin, wake up."

It took another urge or so, but at last he prompted a muffled noise from the figure on the bed. Grudgingly, the eyes opened. It took them a second or two to focus.

"Muh-Matthew?" the breathy whisper asked. Ulm nodded.

"Feel like...Shock Trooper...stomped on me," Kevin muttered, his voice coming more strongly. "Where's a morphine when you need one?"

"Kev, I got her with me." The blue eyes popped more widely open, and managed to find the ashen-faced blond girl in her CVR armor.

"Mandy?" he asked.

She nodded, no warmth on her face. "Yes."

A shadow of the pain he'd felt that terrible moment when he knew that she knew brushed his features again. It cleared, leaving the face as carefully neutral as hers.

"Sorry about getting Matt to drag you here," he said. "I guess you'd want to know who...what...I am. And why I'm in here. And all that other garbage."

She nodded.

"Chair over there." He tried to gesture with his head and was transfixed with a spasm of pain. The coldness on Amanda's face was momentarily replaced with worry.

"Kev, you're not in any condition to do this," Ulm insisted. Kevin's eyes met his with an ironic expression.

"Matt, after all the b.s.ing we've done, s' the least I can do. T'hell with the stonewalling." Kevin gritted his teeth and tried to settle himself. Amanda found a chair while wearing a preoccupied look, and sat. "Anyway, I drop dead, one less burden you got to carry."

Amanda's brows furrowed, listening to the exchange.

"Mandy, listen up. Wanted to say this months ago. Should have said this months ago. Any rate, everything back to 2038 is more or less true. Before that--gets..."

"Kevin." Her voice was worn. "What are you? I want to know for sure. No lies. After all--you promised."

He stiffened, evidently fighting himself, then went limp.

He sighed, closing his eyes. After a minute, he began.

"I am Kayagh of the Invid race, Solugi and prince of the upper rank, and far as I know one of the last evolved to the human form before the Ascension. About one or two days before the final battle, I recall." He swallowed.

"There it is, what you asked for. Unfortunately, you can't pass off my circulatory 'problem' as some hallucination from Malcolm spiking those muffins."

Mandy choked, host to the most bizarre composite of shock, horror, and hilarity. The debate on whether to scream, cry or laugh was causing a deadlock.

Kevin--Kayagh was looking at her with concern. "You all right?" He made a disgusted face. "Of course you aren't. Ha, for obvious reasons."

Mandy slowly recovered. "So why are you--"

"Long story. Has to do with the end of the war, Mandy. And a lot else as well."

Softly, with pauses, he began, remembering himself as he spoke.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The Gosu roared high above the lansdcape, heading east at twice the speed of sound, the light glittering off of the black and dark red trim of its metal exterior, brand new and formed by the Regis in order to protect the chosen ones that used them. It was in a rush; it had been called by the Queen-Mother to the main hive in defense from the invading forces of humans that now joined it in battle.

Its occupant looked out through the canopy, squinting a little and occasionally examining the pale-skinned, five-fingered hands he held up to his face and the black, red, and pale gray armor-suited body they were joined to. He had been transmuted to this form by the Queen-Mother less than a day ago and was still trying to get used to it. The hands, body and hair on his head was unsettling enough, but the color vision was unnerving. No more comforting red haze--the grasslands and woods below him were so--green.

_Is that what it was?_ he wondered. _Color... So this was how the humans saw everything. Was it compensation, in exchange for being born mind-blind?_

_Perhaps they had something there._

He rolled over the thought in his mind. Something about its character both disturbed and interested him. Another idea was following on its trail, something about the veracity of challenging the humans for this world... Was it he actually thinking these things?

_He?_

What was the matter with him? Why was there a sudden resistance to the idea of exterminating these creatures? Was it not his Mother that had stated the necessity for such an action?

And why was he being called to the Refles Point? He was a scientist by his role in the Hive, not one of the warriors, not like Kharoth, Sera, Lihra or Corg--

He shuddered. Only a matter of minutes ago, he had felt the agony through the Hivesong, as human missiles had shattered a Gosu battloid and the strangely irrational, changed hivebrother inside it to atoms. Corg was no more... And Lihra was missing...

He whipped over a human town, and for a second, he could see thorugh his sensors two small humans in the street, with a four-legged furry creature jumping between them. He could actually see the shock and the beginnings of terror on their small faces, so like his own now, before he was past and roaring into the distance.

_No, little ones, my quarrel isn't with you. Go in peace... _ He felt strangely warm toward them. His brows knitted as he began to realize the full magnitude of what changes were going on within himself.

_Great mother, what is happening to me?_

_Why?_

_Is it this body? It must be..._

_Is it something more?_

_Please help me!_

Moisture was trickling off his forehead. _ No, nothing the Hive can do will help me--look at what happend to Corg! I don't want to end that way...the humans might be able to understand this madness..._

_The humans?_

_But how will I ask one? They've no reasons to love us..._

_Because we've killed them! Why are we hurting them? They don't need the Flowers, we do, so why are we trying to displace them? Blazing Tzuptum, why have I never asked this before???_

For the first time in his physical existence, he was fighting a terrible war of self-doubt. Outside, the mecha was showing it, pitching and bouncing in the airstream in tune with the struggles of its pilot. It was a good thing that nearly all Terran airpower in the continent was concentrated on the battle over the Invid central hive, for the Gosu would have been easy pickings, its stupendous firepower nonwithstanding. It was, in fact, only a matter of minutes from crashing, for the terror of its pilot--an unknown feeling compounding the mental oscillations he was experiencing--was nearly causing him to cut out the engines.

And then the fear ceased, as he felt his being taken control of by a Will far greater than his own.

In the horizon toward which he headed, a false sun began to blaze.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"You see," Kevin said softly, "the Regis had decided to leave. Bernard's group had gotten through to her exactly what she was doing to humanity, that it was no better than what the Masters had done to her. So, time to tell the Invid to pack up its suitcases..."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

An eerie calm suffused his being, as the Motherpresence put aside all doubts and gave him Her direction.

His eyes were fastened on that sunrise, as the first prominences of the Invid hivemind's energy transition began to rise skyward. The voice of the Regis rang through his mind and soul, and through that of every Invid still alive and fighting.

_"Hear me, my children. When we sensed the first faint indications of the Protoculture resources on this planet, we thought that at last, we had found the world for which we have sought for so long. We called together all our people scattered throughout the Galaxy to begin life anew on this planet. We began to rebuild a world that had been destroyed by evil. And we constructed the Genesis Pits, in order to pursue the path of enlightened evolution. _

_"The Earth is gradually reviving, and will eventually regain its balance, in accordance with the laws of Nature. However, the humans have been influenced too strongly by the shadow of the Robotech Masters, and are intent only on the destruction of their race. It shall not be!" The light reached out for the human cruisers that even now had released the weapons that would doom the planet, consumed them and what they had fired, and began to rise further._

_"Nor shall the Invid be responsible for perpetuating any more of the misery that has been visited on both it and humanity. It will merely mire us both further in the evil the Robotech Masters have begun, twisting us in their dark image. Follow me, my children. We shall pursue our evolution elsewhere. Another world awaits us, for this one is humanity's to hold!" _

By now, the light had become a searing column of radiance, pulling all Invid toward it to join with that transcendent fire, and he along with it. He increased his speed, sucked along helplessly in the current. It felt right to do it, to fall back in the old pattern of obedience. But with the last shreds of his volition, something cried against it.

He certainly could go with the great tide of exodus he was rushing toward, to whatever place the Queen-Mother had designated for them. But what would happen to him once they arrived? Would he resume this terrifying train of thought, only to go Corg's way in the end? Was that what had happened to Lihra? Would he never understand what had happened? Madness would be a pleasant alternative...

And somewhere, far in the back of his mind, he found the emerald fields and forests he had flown over to be unutterably beautiful, even pocked with bombardment craters. He had so wished to find out more of them., and was he going to have that opportunity ripped from him now? What if they didn't have any such thing where the Invid was going?

And he did not know how to eunciate or even admit all of this happening to him. The only thing he understood, coming in a rising scream from his heart as the light became blinding was:

_**I don't want to go!!!**_

Something deep inside dug in its heels, refused to move, even as the racial pull tore at him. For the first time, that something, seeded the instant he had taken on the human genetic code, fully came to life.

The blissful relaxation was gone, replaced by a war. He had not had practice exerting his will; he was clumsy, frantic and frightened, and the Gosu cockpit rang with his groans as he fought the drag, giving reluctantly inch by mental inch, as he tasted the sweat running into his mouth.

And then, the pull was gone, and he felt nothing in his mind but silence.

There was a long, screeching boom, a blow, and darkness.

Far above, the Invid Pheonix unfurled its wings and flew.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"It crashed," Kevin said, embarassed. "Don't do that sort of thing in midair."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

It was deep into the night, the last-quarter moon shining unmoved onto the great rut of crushed trees and the heap of inert alloys that lay half on its back, all the land behind it devoid of plantlife for a half-mile. The local wildlife had just stopped feeling jumpy about what had happened.

There was a dull thunping noise, and after several minutes the cockpit popped open.

A head protruded from the opening. There was a pained grunt, a couple of failed heaves, and then a figure was sitting on the edge of the opening.

It was--or looked to be--a handsome, dark-haired human male early into his second decade, clad in an alien-looking plated suit of black, dark red, and silvery gray panels that were bleached in the moonlight.

He also looked like he had seen better days. He swayed a bit, had a nasty black eye, and looked as though he could use a lot of rest and a few compresses to his bruised visage. He licked his lips, made a face, and put a finger up to his mouth. It came away dark. He winced and left off.

Carefully, he slid down, clumsily hit the ground, and passed out.

He woke a few minutes later, moaning, and sat up. Looking around, he could see nothing except the vague outlines of trees. Automatically, he reached out to summon an escort.

Nothing.

He began to panic. What happened?

He remembered, then began to panic further.

Alone... Forever. No minds to echo the Hivesong, alone with a bunch of primitives...

What on Optera had he been thinking?

Before the panic became full-blown, a cold clear thought made its way through.

_You made your choice. Now do something about it._

There was a shaky sigh, then he began to look around. It was obvious that his mecha would never fly again. If it had ended up front down, he could have starved to death in there...He fought down that train of thought. He would have to walk. There. He would have to find a human trail or habitation sometime--and then? He would leave that for then. Now was more important.

He achily got to his feet, and looked around. Which way?

The moon was still near the horizon, lending enough radiance that he could see tree silhouettes and make his way in that direction.

That would have to do for now.

Stiffly, Kayagh turned and walked away from his old life and to whatever lay in his future.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"That's basically how I ended up staying behind," the Invid Amanda had known as Kevin O'Shea finished. It was, although he hadn't said so in so many words to her. What he had relived had been for himself only. "Come to think of it, I was one confused bastard." He stopped, and coughed. His tale had taken a great deal out of him.

Amanda did not say anything for a long time, as she tried to absorb the information.

"So how did you meet Matthew, then?"

Matthew spoke up from where he'd been perched on the bed. "I can take this bit. He's talked himself half to laryngitis on top of everything else. This was about three days after the Battle of Reflex Point. I'd left right after the battle, since there wasn't much for me to do there. It was actually pretty bloodless on the ground.

"Rolled into some putzy little hamlet on the way home to Springfield and had to take a nap. I didn't want to spend the money or goods on an inn, especially the fleahole they had there, so I dumped my crap by the road and expected to take a wink. I woke up and found my change of clothes was gone. I started looking around and saw some guy, bold as brass, sneaking around with my jacket on and some real funny bulges underneath it. I followed him and ended up seeing him inhaling a pie he'd stolen."

"Hey, I knew I had to wear something else if I knew what was good for me! You think anybody'd think I was Joe Average in what I was wearing?"

"Shut up. So I sneak up behind him, lay a hand on his shoulder, and he goes transatmospheric. Starts choking too, so I had to Heimlich him. I look under my jacket and shirt and sure enough, see a uniform that doesn't look like anything earthly I've ever seen.. I'd met one of the humanoid Invid the Regis had created at the battle site--Marlene I think, she was a redhead--so I had a sneaking suspicion. He was so damn scared he couldn't move. Bruised and starving, too."

"Three days with nothing to eat. No shit, Sherlock."

"Be quiet, Kev."

"No. Ow."

"So---what did--"

"Only thing I could've." Ulm looked over at Kevin, and smiled. "Paid for the pie, fed him, and got something decent for him to wear. Then I took him home. Everything goes from there more or less like you've heard it."

"I liked the Shakespeare," Kevin whispered wistfully. "Pissed to no end when it got destroyed."

"Rear-line desk job." Mandy said icily. His eyes met hers, looked away in shame.

"That's what I was, basically. I wasn't one of the Malar--the Enforcers--that did the sort of thing like--like--your village... Oh God, Mandy... I was only a scientist... I really can't remember...that life is like a ghost. Kayagh died so long ago he doesn't even smell anymore... " Face tight with pain, he closed his eyes. She looked on, her eyes green ice, the scar on her left cheek white against her flush.

Part of her wanted to hate him, to shriek insults and curses, to run outside and scream at the rest what was among them and to be the first one in the lynch party. The betrayal was overwhelming, and screaming inside of her for release, for vengance. Oh, God, she hated him. She wanted to see him bleed that green blood into the ground like she'd seen Grace's corpse bleed.

But there was a still, small voice inside, that remembered six months of friendship. And somehow, she knew that love him or hate him, she could not be indifferent to him; she simply cared about him too much.

Oh, damn. She cared what happened. That was the worst part of it all.

And he cared too.

Or he would not have helped her on the rough path of becoming another warrior in the front lines of this war, would not have talked to her while she had wheezed in pain from her illness, would not have said "They loved that land so much they were willing to die for it..." Would not have enabled her to destroy his own race...

Ulm watched helpless from the sidelines, impotent in influencing what would win that inner war and knowing it.

"Ah..." It was half sigh, half sob.

"To hell with it," Amanda said. She reached over, mindful of his wounds.

Kevin gulped, then painfully reached up an arm to put around her back. He then realized what she was doing; the knowledge brought tears to his eyes.

Matthew watched, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion and his own relief.

All sixes. Hot damn.

After a minute, Kevin let go, sniffling. "Shit."

She didn't laugh. "It's all right. Past day's put us all through the wringer." She rubbed her eyes, which were noticeably blue underneath. "Uh, Kayagh..."

"**Kevin**. Same as always."

"Excuse me. Kevin, the Invid came back not all that long afterward. Why didn't you join them again?"

She jumped as he stiffened.

"Do you think I didn't care what happened to Matthew? I may not be human in the strict sense, Mandy, but I'll tell you I'm not that kind of traitor. Big difference between seeing humans as targets and seeing Ernest who likes dogs and tomatoes. And I've really gotten to like Ernest a lot, if you know what I mean.

"And another thing--"

The kind azure eyes went hard and terrible.

_"Because she lied."_

oooooooooooooooooooo 

They left Kevin's room, leaving him to sleep off his pain. Matthew looked down at his watch and started. It was very nearly six. Had it been that long? God, Kevin needed his rest to heal.

Twenty-four hours, he thought. At this time then, we'd been two guys with a bad secret and a girl who'd come along for the ride. Now the equation had been forever changed. For better? For worse? Only time could tell.

"Mandy." She looked up, eyes glazed from exhaustion. "Go and get some sleep. You get the day off--I don't think even Dennis is going to argue you've had it bad yesterday, although," he whispered, "not for the reason he thinks. But basket cases make bad soldiers."

"What about you?" she asked. Bless her.

"I've done on worse than this. Besides, being CO means I do everything everybody else does and then again anyway. I'll live. Get to bed. That's an order."

And so began the inclusion of Amanda into the conspiracy.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Lord Shkud,_ the Living Computer said silently.

"What?" he snapped out loud, as he paced back and forth within the inner chambers of the hive, mentally ordering the Malar on their tasks. "I'm busy."

_Something has happened in the Southeastern sector of your domain on the planet._

"Ah yes, the dead area. What's so exciting about it? Absolutely nothing in that area's ever made Flowers or labor grow there."

The mass of floating protoplasm elsewhere in the hive bobbed gently and paused.

_Several lunar cycles ago, you set one of the Gitamma mecha out there to provide extra coverage._

"Yes?

_The Living Computer monitoring that area has just reported its destruction._

"WHAT?" Shkud barked. A few of the Malar pivoted to look at him incuriously.

_The transmission ceased, but not before the Gitamma managed to convey some images of the agents of its destruction to it. It has spent the intervening time trying to process the images for your consumption._

"I was to have been informed immediately!"

_It begs your pardon. It wished you to have all information on the destruction when you were informed._

Shkud grunted, his eyes narrowed balefully.

"Send me the images."

_Yes, lord._

Within a couple of seconds, images and perceptions began to flicker behind the Invid lord's mind, coming in a steady flow that stored itself in his memory. It stopped after a minute.

Shkud played the transmissions from the Gitamma back in his mind, looking thoughtful. Three resistance in human armor and small mecha had played a part. He was grudgingly impressed with the strategy they had used and forced himself to admit that the Invid dependence on tracking via protoculture had its faults. It would have to be addressed the next convergence with his fellows. The Inorganics had benefits, but obviously needed improvment.

Something...bothered him about the scenario. The mecha's silent movement should have had the targets eliminated before they even knew what had happened. Might it be possible? Pfah. No, of course not.

Thinking over the fine nuances would have to wait until later on.

"Transmission received. Very well. I want the forces patrolling the area increased and searches conducted within that radius."

_Confirmed_, the Living Computer answered.

Shkud began to leave the room. "Oh, by the way."

_Yes lord?_

"That laggard Brain?"

_Yes?_

"Have it... replaced."

_Confirmed._

Satisfied, Shkud left.


	5. Chapter Five

**Dandelions: Chapter 5 of 9**

"No!" Shkud hissed. "That is my final word on the subject."

His petitioner stared at him, perhaps a trace of frustration beginning to rise to her normally glacial surface. "If you do not wish her in your command anymore, then why--"

"There is no why!" he spat. "Since you are obviously so intent on circumventing my rightful punishment for her, then there is no discussion! You are not going to have this Solugi for your own purposes, Asaav. Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite clear." She began to gnaw on her lower lip. "Quite clear that you are wasteful with personnel and valuable evolved resources, Shkud."

He whirled back on her, his eyes two blazing slits. "More can always be evolved."

Asaav's temper had already frayed; now it visibly snapped. "Our resources are finite, brother! We were alotted them for a specific purpose: to convey what we need back to Our Mother. How will she see the way you obviously discard our brothers and sisters? YOU are obviously unfit to lead! How you were chosen to become Kulagi defies all logic!"

He froze, eyes wide, then made a noise that could only be characterized as half-growl, half-hiss. Suddenly, a bar of searing white light was in his hand, and swinging toward her. She stood as it whizzed toward her, the only visible reaction a slight widening of the silvery eyes.

A matter of inches before it made contact, Shkud made a spitting sound of disgust, and the blade of psionic energy disintegrated into random crackles of energy. He dropped his now-open right hand and turned away.

She had called his bluff and he knew it. Although there was no hive-loyalty lost between the two, the one immutable fact remained that Kulagi never fought Kulagi.

"No." he bit out. "Your Taf Gamun is refueled and waiting." Without another word or thought, he strode through the organic-looking doorway and out of the audience chamber of his orbital hive. She looked after him for a minute, then turned and left out of the opposite doorway toward the docking bay, her plans unborn.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Oryo'i had finished with that lunar cycle's protoculture inventory and shipment to the Orbital Hives and was leaving the shuttle bay when the vaguely familliar mindvoice contacted her through Living Computer.

_Solugi Oryo'i...I regret to inform you that despite all my proposals and entreaties, Shkud is steadfast in his refusal to allow you to be transferred to my authority. He was quite...obstinate. I could do nothing, for which I offer my apologies._

Oryo'i paused in her progress for a second, the only external expression a momentary pulling back of her lips.

_I understand, Lady Asaav. It is of no great consequence. All for the Hive._

_Yes. I will see what I can do._

The connection was broken.

Oryo'i continued onward.

_In my case, it doesn't matter, does it?_

_Promises are always insubstantual, especially if you have the power over keeping them._

_All for the Hive, and all for the Kulagi and Mother. Nothing new in that, really, and nothing ever new in anything. At any rate, I have work to do, at least until Shkud finds a good reason to rid himself of me._

Shrugging her shoulders with an entirely new fatalism, Oryo'i continued onward.

**August 2045**

"Well, look, if we keep the policy on p-weapon usage tight, we ought to cut the energy-clip usage by about 20% percent..." Lieutenant Zinnert insisted. "Same ought to go for the protoculture usage of the Cyclones. I'm all for the idea of stricter frameworks for battle usage..."

Ulm groaned privately to himself. It was this sort of interplay between himself and Dennis that was alternately a vital and productive means of leadership and management and more often like now one of the banes of his existence. Ulm knew full well his flaws and his tendency toward un-millitary laxity, which was part of the reason he felt between himself and Zinnert a viable synthesis that worked in the command structure. On a personal level, however, it seemed to accelerate the disappearance of his already-fading hair.

Not to mention it was getting near three. He religiously checked up on any happenings related over the communications setup in the former video store and monitored the Invid encounters and other details the other local resistance groups related every three hours during the day. Monitoring such patterns had helped predict Invid purges before, despite the sharp and unexplained rise in the enemy's unpredictability in behavior. Unfortunately, Ulm could not very well ignore Dennis' nattering; this meeting on protoculture and ammo inventories had been long overdue. As Zinnert had rightfully pointed out, the stuff hardly grew on trees.

Matthew fought down the thought of the various sarcastic comments Kevin would have made about that remark. The last think he needed was to be seen smirking.

He managed to steal a look at his watch. _Damn_--it was 2:55.

While nodding, he looked mentally around the garage/mecha bay trying to find a good substitute for himself.

No, no--not Gerald, he'd just gotten back from his annual "trip" along with Kev as his escort, and was exhausted. Not Sherry or Miranda...both were occupied with a jacked-up Samson they were fixing. He heard a clatter from another direction...that would be Amanda, fine-toothing her millitary hardware with the quasi-paranoia so her these days. Fred was two-thirds along with a perimeter that was part of a high security guard "shell" that they had begun to construct last month in order to isolate the inner work centers of the base from the rest of the mall, so he couldn't be spared. _Damn..._

He called Amanda over, gesturing to Dennis to hold it for a second.

"Pierson, could you do a favor for me? Sorry to bother you with your overhaul and all, but I need the comm reports checked on."

She nodded shortly, her green eyes watchful. "Sure. Where's the clipboard, Lieutenant?"

"Hmm... the table in my barracks. Let me know if anything unusual's popped up." She nodded and left, trying to cool herself by flipping the bottom of her sweat-drenched T-shirt in the airless heat of the lower garage as she did so.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_I'm a man without conviction_

_I'm a man who doesn't know_

_How to sell a contradiction_

_You come and go_

_You come and go..._

--**Culture Club**, "Karma Chameleon"

Amanda was actually relieved to be back up in the mall level. While it certainly was not the most strategically secure base left in the world, it was definitely the best air-conditioned. Of course, that never played much of a part with how the enemy dealt with it.

_I've got news for you..._, she thought bitterly.

Since their arrival, the Elms had made continuous efforts to compromise for the place's obvious strategic liabilities; not only was there an outpost a couple miles south in the abandoned belowground library that had originally atttracted Zinnert's attention, there was now a tightly monitored perimeter about a hundred yards in radius that contained the lower level and garage, with the communications center at the dead center and quarters surrounding it in the zone. To create the barrier, a lot of the old mall furnishings had been ripped up, forever destroying the old Wonderland aspect. Amanda wondered if she were the only one who mourned that loss, a small one in a world filled with worse tragedies.

With the population boom, the old sleeping arrangements had also been altered. Amanda, as one of the elder members, now slept in a back room with four new recruits. Similar had happened with most of the other members. Of the lot, only Matthew and Kevin still slept together in the same room as before.

A twisted smile touched her thin lips.

The others assumed it was because of their personal relationship and preferences. As Amanda knew full well by now, it was considerably more...involved than that. She had found out that it was responsible for the fact that they were still alive and not dead along with the Quincy base.

"Kevin," it seemed, could detect an enemy attack coming in before the actual incident.

_Takes one to know one, eh?_ she thought.

Clipboard under one arm and pencil in the other hand, she slouched into the communications center, where the schedule said a recruit by the name of Mark MacNamara was on duty. The place had originally been the TV room, but it seemed Matthew had had other plans on mind. However, it didn't preclude off-duty personnel from still utilizing it for entertainment purposes, as the noise of movie dialogue and the figure slumped in front of it proved.

Abruptly, the watcher shot to his feet and whirled on her.

"Whaddaya want?" Kevin snapped, his face angry. Mandy gasped.

Strangely, his eyes seemed to be focused on a point some inches above her head. Suddenly he blinked and looked confused. They tracked downward and found her face.

"Urk," he said, his feet beginning to shuffle. The expression on his face could be characterized only as scorching embarassment. He did not blush. He couldn't. It was not a matter of control, Amanda had found out; it was a matter of complete physiological incapability. It was all a matter of blood flow, Matt had said, and that considering the color of Kevin's it could not show without revealing Kevin's true self. The only rosiness that tinted Kevin's complexion was an opaque capillary pigmentation.

It did not take any petty blood flow for her to detect that he looked ready to crawl under a rug and die there.

"Uh..." he fumbled. "Sorry. I thought you were somebody else." His eyes shifted away from her astonished gaze.

"Who?" she asked unthinkingly. Mark had turned from his comm monitoring and was looking on with interest; a filthy look from Kevin made him change his mind.

"Matt. I got a bone to pick with him. Sorry."

Amanda nibbled on the pencil eraser, stretching her face into the protective, glassy smile that she had used around him for nearly three months. "Oh, well, then, that's okay. If you'll excuse me..." She turned and began her move over to the communications array, hearing out of the corner of her perception a sudden intake of breath, a huff, and silence. She took a step, then gulped suddenly.

Kevin tightened his grip on her elbow, his eyes narrowed. While the hold was gentle, he made it perfectly clear he was not about to let her go. It felt completely human. It scared her out of her wits.

"Matt can wait. Speaking of bones, you're another one."

"I've got to monitor the calls--"

Kevin made an obscene suggestion regarding the calls. Before she knew it, she was halfway up the stairs, towed by the scout.

"Let me go!"

"Like hell." Kevin made a perfunctory salute to the gawking guard at the perimeter and dragged her further down the hall. Thirty seconds later they were fifty yards outside. Only then did he let go of her arm.

"Look, Ishmael, I can't say the whole business with the Kraken didn't foul you up a tiny bit. But for three months?"

"What did you call me?" she screeched.

"Moby Dick, dammit! The guy on the whaler!" Amanda got the context and only got angrier.

"Because the Invid--you KNOW what happened!"

"Do I?" He smacked the side of his head. "I haven't intentionally touched the Hivemind in six years and I'm not going to start now!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Even in the blazing glare of the August sun and under his sweat-blackened headband, his eyes were dilated in vented emotion. She stepped back and prepared to make a run back inside, the hive reference not having made things any easier for her.

He sagged suddenly, the anger gone.

"Oh God. Mandy...please..." The misery was so apparent that she halted. She turned back and saw him suddenly on his rear in the middle of the roasting afternoon parking lot, forehead on his hands, mindless of the heat. She stopped and stared.

After a couple of seconds, "Isn't that--hot on there?"

He shrugged. "What the hell matters anyway?"

She paused. "C'mon. At least the grass is cooler than that."

Kevin plopped down again in the open weeds after they had gone out past the trees lining the parking lot. After some internal debate, Mandy sat and looked at the utterly dispirited black head on the green denim knees.

"Sorry about that," he mumured finally.

"Hope they didn't hear us screaming at each other," she offered. He shook his head.

"Who cares anyway?" He sighed. "Right now, I'd rather be lynched than spend another six years like this. You're not...the only Ishmael here, Mandy."

She made a noise.

He continued. "Mandy--I've spent years pretending to be everything but--before the Elms, I was posing as Matt's "nephew," even before I got the concept down. The last other...person...like me I met was Sera. That was two years ago. I could be the only Terran sympathsizer left in the entire contingent of bloody glorious Optera. I'm _alone_, Mandy."

"Kevin, I--"

"Mandy, it wouldn't be so bad if--I don't know. If I wasn't in constant danger of being found and killed by Invid, by my own people, mind you. If I didn't have to worry about whether I get a paper cut in front of Gerald, or worse, Fred. You seen how his eyes change if Invid are brought up? That's not an entirely sane person. At least if you're a hemophiliac you don't get people trying to murder you if you start bleeding." He admitted softly. "Yeah, and if only...you'd understand."

Amanda swallowed. "Kevin. I can't."

He lifted his grayed features. "I know. Sorry, for thinking..."

"Kev, what was I supposed to think? I--trusted you. And then--Kevin, you don't understand what it was like to--to--" Suddenly, the memory, nine months old, was raw in her mind. "to see your friends rounded up, like animals, and my sister... I don't know what it's like, being you. But I know what it was like, being me. And finding out that..."

After a minute, he handed over a fairly clean square of cloth. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose gratefully.

"So that was it." he said. She nodded fitfully. He looked down at the ground, then back up at her, his gaze frank.

"Mandy, if it's any consolation at all, I spent weeks after that being literally eaten up with guilt. I'm ashamed to even admit I used to be that." He pulled up a blade of foxtail and studied it, the color of the leaves a couple shades lighter than Invid blood, then began to munch it ferociously. "And lying like a Persian rug to you the entire time didn't help much either."

She sniffled and blew her nose again. At last, she asked, "Kevin?"

He made an inquiring noise.

"What are you?"

He froze in mid-chew, eyes wide.

_Oh mother. _ That was The Question that had haunted him for so long it seemed to be its own answer.

It took him a couple minutes before he looked over at her.

"Proof that Darwin was not up to it, I guess, Amanda.

"I look human, but bleed another color. I have psionic abilities to detect Invid, yet I think my own thoughts, make my own loyalities. And I'm still classified as an Invid." He started gnawing on his lip, face pained. "Invid don't fear, don't worry about dying, have a greater racial purpose to work for, have no selfishness, and complete, total harmony, something which I don't think humanity will ever attain without losing its nature.

"On the other hand, Invid don't feel. Invid don't laugh, Invid don't weep, were never able to laugh at absurdity." He looked off over her shoulder. "Except for maybe one case, an Invid never found a capacity to love. Everything's so wrapped up in hive-loyalty there's nothing left over." He sighed. "But I do that. And a lot more, as you know. And not much of what Invid are supposed to do at all.

"So what am I? I heard Marlene theorized we're something else now, both and neither, and not even the Regis knew what she was doing when she started to change us. We were evolved to replace you, you know."

"What?!" He nodded.

"Yep. Got into her head the human form was the most adaptable for this planet, so wipe out the natives and replace them with her own kids, just like those bad 1950's movies." A grin flitted across his face. "But whether we'd've been what she wanted is really in doubt, considering how the first batch turned out. Mandy--if you ever find something out about what I actually am, I want to know, because I just don't know at all what's talking to you."

She did not know how to answer that and sat there, her eyes reddened.

"So when I froze you out, it hurt you."

"Ripped my guts out and stomped on them."

"Kev, I'm sorry."

He gave her a tentative wink. "It's all right. I keep forgetting that although I've had a lot of time being like you, you--don't know what it's like to be what I was. Amanda--do you know what you are?"

She blinked at his question incredulously. "Of course I am. I'm Amanda Pierson, a human being."

He grunted. "Why Amanda? What makes you Amanda?"

She opened her mouth to answer, shut it incredulously and wiped a tangle of yellow sweaty strands out of her face. Kevin looked knowing.

"See? It's a hundred times worse for me."

"Uhmmm."

He sighed. "It wasn't just that that threw me off. I took a trip with Gerald yesterday. Found out some unnerving facts about him and his home life." He hesitated. "Swore he'd kick my teeth in if I yapped it around but you may as well know, considering you're already acquaintanced with somebody evolved from a slug." She managed a smile.

"His mother's a grand lady. His father's dead. As it happened, his name was Utan Shul-Marduk."

Her jaw dropped.

"My god. He's--"

"The son of a defector from the Botoru Battalion. Our Gerry's half-Zentraedi."

Mandy frantically scrambled through her memory of history taught to her in school regarding the events leading to the Robotech Wars. "Good god, you mean he's your enemy!"

Kevin looked peeved. "My _verde_-blooded ass he is. Yes, the Zentraedi defoliated Optera, but since I defected I've realized they were just as much abused by the Masters as the Invid were. My only argument with Gerald is he's a homophobe who knows more dirty lyrics to "Look Up" than any other being alive, not anything with his genes. The same goes for his father." Kevin's tone was wistful. "He seemed to have been a good person, actually. No, my being annoyed's with Matt."

"Yes, you did, ah mention..."

"Talk about an insult to my intelligence!" he burst out. "Does he think I'm that stupid, that I need to go out with Gerald on the chance I'd find out his background? What's he trying to do, foster Peace and Brotherhood singlehandedly? He had to have been the one to stick me with him." He began massacring another grass stem. "I've heard of preaching to the already converted but this is the first time I know what it means."

"Kevin, will you calm down? What happened?"

"Blazing Tzuptum toasting marshmallows, I've known Wilson for six years now. If he thinks that finding out--hell. Sorry. Basically, he's had this yearly trip he makes, for his mother. I didn't know until now for what. His mother had an abusive drunken idiot of a husband before she met and fell in love with Gerald's father and divorced the first. Amazingly enough they consider it an obligation to check up on him, despite the fact he pickles himself in alcohol and is going to be dead of cirrhosis in a couple years from the look of things. Gerald had to go tell his mother about his condition, and I had to follow to make sure he didn't get hosed on the way. That's where I found out. Actually, Gerald wasn't all that enthused either about my knowing. And he doesn't even know my history."

Two minutes passed. A hot breeze sprang up, blowing dust and thinning dandelion parachutes into the air.

"It occurs to me," Mandy said distantly, "that the Elms racial mixture is absolutely nuts."

Kevin began to laugh uproariously, then cut off as a sudden shrill beep cut the air. Amanda's eyes widened as he ripped the pager/ communicator off his belt and gave a hasty acknowlegement to Mark's voice on the other end. Suddenly, he stiffened as though electrocuted.

The next second, he was dragging Amanda by the arm again, this time back inside the base. Panting, she heard the klaxon come to blatting life and saw chaos as loiterers poured through the cracked glass doors towards the interior.

"It's urgent! They're trying to take Rantoul!"

She screamed a curse.

Kevin let go and was pressing his right hand against his side where the Kraken wound lingered; although healed, it still pained him occasionally. "I'll see you in the Cyclone bay!" In a second, he was gone in the scrambling crowds; Mandy spun and headed for the garage, where her CVR armor and equipment waited.

It was to be the first engagement she fought in as an active member, and she was very aware it could also be her last.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

There was a wedge of them heading directly towards the besieged town some ten miles from their base, eight Cyclones of varying make in all. Still others were circling around so as to not allow the aliens a fix on the location they were coming from. Fortunately, the enemy was already engaged by another group, which had called it in to the Elms and had allowed the residents time to get to shelter, but considering varying strengths in forces, they would be in serious trouble without quick reenforcement. Amanda, Kevin, and Miranda were among the first wave.

A couple miles away and the battle was loud and visually clear, Cyclones dodging and juking with Attack Scouts, harrying Combat Troopers like grackles did hawks. The Apocalypse Riders were badly outnumbered, but many of them had relatives in the town and were not about to let the Invid ship them off to a slave camp without a fight.

Even as they raced toward the locale, they could see a plasma blast go home, and one of the small armored figures erupted into a blaze of gas. Miranda said something foul.

"Bastards! Okay, kids, you know the drill. Buddy each other, watch out for your butts and your partner's, and keep 'em busy until the rest arrive. Good luck, and let's all meet this side of the valley of the shadow! Go!"

"Hail Mary mother of grace be with us now and at the hour of our death..." Kevin's voice fervently chanted over the tacnet. Mandy spared a second to be bemused by the fact that the Catholicism said by the rogue alien seemed to be sincere, and then the wedge split.

Miranda, Kevin, and two others shot foward, exploding upward and beginning the shift to Battloid, and the rest went off the road to the sides to come in from the ground, fusion engines still on to avoid detection.

Mandy was in company with Raymond Thieu, a skinny kid from the north who had come in June with tales of a crashed Shadow Alpha somewhere in the bombarded prairie and dreams of fighting Invid. The Elms had located and were trying to repair the first and had complied in giving him the second. He was now shadowing Mandy. Personally, she would have felt better with Kevin--even Kevin. Ray was too trigger happy.

"You know the spot we're to dive in, Ray!"

"Yeah!" he grinned verbally. "I'll buy the vodka!"

"Look, keep your mind on things. This is serious, Ray."

Abruptly, an annihilation disc _fhwahm_ed in from nowhere, nearly dismounting them as it detonated a matter of yards away.

"I told you so."

"Yeah," he said, shaken.

A litlle more...A little more...please god if there was one, daddy if he was still able to listen, please help her, no more death marches for anyone. I want to live want to live let me live--

"NOW!"

She flicked the switch, in the last few seconds before the immediate conflict, with Thieu following.

She stood as the cycle erupted skyward, months of practice coming into play as the farings split and rose, shocks attaching to forearms, wheels sliding, and jets coming alive. As soon as the Forager encased her in battlesuit, she was back on the ground on fusion, Thieu following, and running toward what a sane person would have fled like mad.

An armored figure loomed out of the smoke at them, humanoid but far too large to be a Cyclone Battloid. Amanda barely had a split second to see the overdeveloped arms and shoulders that distinguished a Sentinel before a radiant blast obliterated its sensor eye in green steam. Amanda was reassured by the accuracy of Thieu's aim.

From what she knew from instruction, it was more likely that the troops actually used to round up Rantoul would be on the ground, which meant she and Raymond would have to deal with the Sentinels and Enforcers. This was good and bad: although the enemy's manuverability was limited, the castes occupying the Sentinel and Enforcer suits were a good deal more intelligent and autonomous than either Scout or Trooper, according to Kevin. Plus, there was the possiblity the airborne troops might make a potshot at one or both of them from above.

_And one decision could mean the difference between being alive and being a corpse,_ she remembered.

Her reasoning was immediately destroyed when a red clawed arm whipped out of the turmoil at her, the rest of the Scout following after. Acting on raw instinct, reliving her first confrontation, Amanda rolled under the deadly swing and the following plasma blasts, raised her H-90, and fired.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_They keep calling me..._

**--Nine Inch Nails, **"Dead Souls"

The Scout's eye erupted as the missile plunged through it and into the iigaari's compartment, killing it instantly. The mecha shell had only begun to fall when the fragmentation missile completed its work and the mecha erupted into a glowing ball, spraying ceramic.

The Ferret whipped away and over to its next confrontation, the last cry of the Attack Scout still shrilling in its pilot's mind.

_Forgive me, brother,_ he said. He began to target a Combat Trooper harassing a few Riders, trying to ignore how his eyes blurred.

_The Invid think I'm dead as far as they know. Please send me out against the lower ranks if you can. If the Malarosm or the Solugi pick up on my thoughts and realize I'm alive and working for humans, I am dead. So are you._ That had been the rationale for his explaining to Matthew back in '40 why he wanted to target the lower castes. Of course it was true, but the other half had been that murdering iigaari and gurab'pa was all he could handle at the time. Even after all these years, the silent chant rang through his mind every time he extinguished yet another part of the Hive.

_Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me._

He aimed and loosed another missile.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Miranda heaved, the plunge driven by her thrusters pulling black edges over her vision as she dove toward a clutch of Enforcers with Sentinels. After the rising retaliation of the human resistance to the slave roundups, the Invid had intensified their forces occupying towns. What had been only a dozen or so Enforcers in Amanda's case was now six Enforcers, eight Sentinels, four Troopers and twenty Scouts.

Miranda did not care. All she could think was that the Invid had gone entirely too far now, in their recent history of breaking every vow of noninterference in the book. She growled within her helmet, targeting an Enforcer even as they started to take notice of her.

One exploded outright, one's sensor shattered, and one's firing arm exploded in green blood and alloy. Miranda hadn't been as long in the combatant game as her brother, but there was no sign of it in the strike that ended with half of the Enforcers dead or disabled as she reached for the air again.

She knew how risky the move had been and several Sentinels had to be aiming up her rear at that moment. She made a hairpin turn, only to see the hulk of a Combat Trooper plow into the ground with a shattering crash, flattening a building, a couple Sentinels, and the wounded Enforcer.

She could see the perpetrator weave around in midair and detected the acid-green armor. "Thanks for the assist, Kev!"

"You're welcome." He sounded strained. "Where's Gendt?"

"No idea. Lost him tangling with some Scouts. Yours?"

"Same. It's insane. You can't keep str--RANDA LOOK OUT!"

She cut out the thrusters, dropped, fired, and waxed the Enforcer she saw just then aiming, lifting again with a neck-wrenching jerk a couple dozen feet before she hit the ground. Kevin's quick eyes had saved her yet again.

"We gotta get the others." she said shortly.

The Scouts were beginning to regroup, presumably under the direction of the two remaining Enforcers. Miranda bit back a groan of horror. There were still twelve left. She didn't know about the casualties her side had sustained, but under no means was this a pretty picture.

The first Scout began to dive toward them, folded up in its clamlike attack configuration. The two Elms scrambled and blasted away from each other like repelled magnets as the Invid mecha screamed toward them.

In an instant, there was a screech and it exploded.

Miranda heard Gwen's voice over the tac net, froze, and began a whoop of elation.

The rest had arrived.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Round here we talk like lions_

_But sacrifice like lambs..._

**--Counting Crows,** "Round Here"

Mandy pushed back her visor, looking over the scene as the rest of the Elms dove into the fray, this time with the heavy weaponry that it had taken this long to set up. Behind her, she could hear the thump as Thieu landed behind her.

She shifted her position on the bank of the watering hole, and watched the general chaos over to the west. Matt had told her and her companion to withdraw, as both their payloads were nearly expended and it was now a matter of helping the Riders to mop up the mess. If the Invid were to take Rantoul, this day would not be the time.

She recalled with some misgiving the icy, remorseless accuracy she had dispatched three Scouts. Thieu had accounted for three others.

Thieu unhelmeted, his black hair dripping stringily onto his self-confessed quarter-Asian countenance. "Not a bad day's work, huh? You want a orange-drink screwdriver when we get back?"

"Ack." Amanda's face twisted. "Get your helmet on, Ray."

With puppy insolence, he teased, "Why, sweetie? We're done for the day."

"It's not safe, Ray. I've got the scars to prove it. Just do it." She with horror realized her own words; Raymond was no older than herself, and she was talking like Gerald or Dennis. What the heck?

"Oh all right, if you say so. Really, don't you?"

"Most disgusting thing I've ever dreamt of drinking. Flirt later, Ray, we've got--" There was a strangled choke behind her, and a wet noise. She whirled. And screamed.

Thieu was staring with blank astonishment. The crimson-slicked spike impaling his neck withdrew, a viscous gout of red fountaining out. The battloid suit and the figure inside stood for a second more, then crumpled to the ground, watering it vermillion.

The red optic of the Kraken Inorganic focused on her. The bloody tapewormlike tentacle arched like a cobra, and lashed forward.

Amanda tried to lift, was forced to stumble back by the strike, rolled down the slope and splashed into the rancid water, switching to public channel in her panic. "Pierson to Elms--Kraken, waterhole! We've been--"

The tentacle whipped and spat.

For a millisecond, Amanda's body arched in agony. Then there was an infinite void of time as completely beyond her control, her body began its slump, her eyes open on the hovering Inorganic as she folded into the water of the man-made pond. Then, there was only the lukewarm touch of the water as her armor dragged her into the shallow depths.

She realized as she sank that it had not been electricity it had been firing, but a sort of paralyzing bolt that shut down voluntary muscles. While it was not fatal of itself, she couldn't move a hair.

She wondered how long it would take for her to drown.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Targets eliminated,_ the Kraken's computer rasped to its guiding Brain. The Inorganic withdrew its tentacles and whooshed silently away from the bubbling water and the scarlet patch of ground with the still-warm meat at its center.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Is that it?" Matt asked worriedly. "If even one gets away we're in deep crap. And we're close by here."

"I think so," Kevin whispered to him in private communication. "I can't 'hear' any others." Ulm's helmeted head nodded over to him in recognition.

The Riders' CO made a thoughtful noise. "I think you guys have 'em cleaned up," she said, her visor peering over the landscape as her first-generation Saber Cyclone battlesuit hovered above them. She gave a huge sigh of relief. "I can't tell you how grateful we are, Lieutenant Ulm. We're going to have to stay in the underground shelters for a good long while, but it beats having Rantoul enslaved." She added quietly, "My sister and my nephews and niece live here."

"I understand, Giraldi."

There was a sudden shout. The ground seemed to open up as the Rider CO yelped and lifted away.

"Shit, Matt, I was wrong," Kevin gulped.

The Scout was missing a claw and leaking fluid heavily, but somehow it still lived. The red sensor focused, as the crippled mecha lurched upward.

Before the three could move, another Saber had leapt foward, CADS humming, and ended the Scout's break with fluid ease. Kevin watched, sourness rising in his thoat.

"First time for everyone," Ulm said on their private channel.

"I think," the stranger commented, "that's the last one."

Kevin was badly shaken. "I certainly hope so. God." He panted, feeling the adrenalin spit into his system.

"It is," the other assured them. There was something vaguely familiar about the melodic tenor or baritone, Kevin couldn't remember which. "I counted when we went in. Experience, I guess."

"Saved us this time," Commander Giraldi said, relieved. "I suppose we now--"

The scream pierced their eardrums even over the radio, the soprano in such an extremity of terror it did not sound human. It seemed to drive a ice spike into Kevin's soul, for he knew whose it was.

"MANDY!" he cried. Even as the voice gasped its few words, he was in the air, rocketing toward the only body of water he'd seen.

"O'Shea!" Ulm barked in shock. "What--" The terrified voice on the other end cut off short. The second Saber was already gone. He and Giraldi followed after.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Kevin's Ferret ripped the air as he plunged toward the hole, unaware of the fact that the two Cyclones behind him had split off to pursue a retreating disturbance in the grass. The only thing he was aware of was the glassy surface of the watering hole, seemingly undisturbed but for the vicious bloodstain at one end in which Thieu was sprawled. And deeply rutted grass and earth just beyond that...

_Mother, mother, how long? _ How long since the gasping voice cut off in bubbles?

"I'll take him!" the Saber shouted. Kevin gave a distracted acknowledgement, and plummeted, cutting out the engines as he hit the surface and sank, his armor filling as he did so .

Dark, murky, opaque water was all he could see. _Where? _ He whipped out a hand, felt on the bottom, the gauntlet searching the way his eyes could not. It hit something solid, he could feel...

Frantically, he dragged the arm to him, got the body, thank Mother his helmet was halfway water-sealed, and lunged for the bank.

Liquid flooded out of the cyclone as he peeled it away from him, out of the still body's as he triggered the transformation sequence. He peeled the armor away. Her lungs had to be full of water... He picked her up, tilted her so it ran out of her, wrapped his arms around her torso, and lunged upward. Water poured out of the nose and mouth. How many minutes? How long did he have?... There was still a thready pulse. Praying to whatever deity would listen, he laid her out flat, pinched her nostrils, and began to administer artificial respiration.

Several cycles of eternity as he breathed for her, and he continued even after her chest began to rise and fall on its own. It was only after she began to cough that he stopped, panting, looking and not quite believing.Her eyes blinked.

"Mandy! Can you hear me?"

The light emerald irises focused on him, beginning to widen in terror. She was breathing, with liquid gurgles, her eyes were blinking, but the rest remained completely immobile.

The Saber shadowed them. "Is she--"

"Is Thieu--" Kevin began, remembering Amanda's partner at last. His heart sank when the helmet moved from side to side.

"Too late. His neck--was impaled. It hit the aorta. He was probably dead in a couple of minutes." Nausea shuddered the voice. The frantic green eyes below them closed in utter pain.

"She can't move. It's as though she were paralyzed."

The Saber pilot removed his helmet. "Can you understand us, Mandy? Blink once for yes."

The eyelids fluttered closed and opened.

The blue eyes, a couple shades darker than Kevin's own, glanced over at him, then down. "Do you know what attacked you? Blink twice if you don't." Another single blink. "Do you think it used electricity? Stun chemicals? Some other paralysis agent?" Two blinks for each of the first two questions, and one for the last.

"It was a Kraken Inorganic," Kevin supplied. "We've had a--tangle with one before. But I thought it was electricity at the time."

The other nodded. "It could be both. I have no idea who's creating them, but I've seen some--variety in attacks. This and other types."

"No." the barely audible whisper came from below. Both men gaped. "Paralyze bolt." Amanda's throat worked, emitting another gurgling cough.

"It's wearing off!" Kevin said hopefully. "At least it's not permanent, Mr.--"

"Belmont," the other supplied, his dyed hair plastered with perspiration. "Probably long enough for the Inorganic to take prey." He helped Kevin to strip the remaining armor off her body, the water trickling out as they did so. "I've seen the Invid use enough combat techniques to give me nightmares for a lifetime. Funny, considering..." He trailed off.

"Isn't it though," Kevin answered shortly. "Watch my back." He proceeded to remove his torso armor and slung Mandy over his shoulder, trying to get the remaining water out of her with gravity and whacks on the back. By the time he was finished, she was breathing more normally and her hands had begun to twitch. He got her back down, holding her awkwardly as he crouched on the ground, shaking and not about to loose his hold on her. She lay quietly, the only indication of her internal state of mind the spasmodic twitches and her dilated eyes.

In another couple of minutes, the two officers arrived back, mounted on their Cyclones.

"Yep, it was a Kraken. WAS a Kraken," Giraldi said grimly, patting her H-90 rifle. "The last time that son-of-a-bitch will--jesusmaryandjoseph." She began to heave as her eyes lit on the corpse of Thieu. "So--that's..."

Ulm saw as well and groaned. "God, I knew I shouldn't have let him operate that soon..."

"No, Lieutenant," Belmont answered frankly, "It's always too soon to start fighting. He just was on the losing side. But the other's going to be okay, I think." Mandy's head began to move a little. There was still a bit of foul water inside her lungs interfering with her breathing, but she was breathing. She was slightly surprised by that.

Giraldi demurred. "I don't know, to be honest. We're thankful for your help, but I know damn well what happens with animals drinking and wading in that water and God only knows what's in there in the middle of summer. She needs antibiotics as fast as she can. As soon as the Hos-Box gets here and it's free I'm injecting her." Ulm whistled. The hospital sidecars the Icarus had dropped were only wishful thinking for the Elms.

Kevin realized belatedly he was wet, filthy and smelt like a slurry tank, but that was minor compared to the knowledge whom he had gotten into it for was still breathing and now beginning to move her legs. Hearing soft wordless complaints, he adjusted his hold and supported her head, catching her eyes as he did so.

"You're going to be okay, Mandy. You better be okay, because I went to all this work--you understand me?"

She nodded, incapable of the strength to form words. She looked into Kevin's face, mustering all the understanding attitude she could.

Kevin blinked, and continued staring at her further, fear and confusion in his eyes. She did not quite know what was going on, but suddenly she felt completely safe, as long as he held on. Green eyes stlil fixed on the blue, her eyelids dropped and she felt only quiet.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda had fallen asleep. He looked down at her face, blinking in black exhaustion.

_What had happened?_ What feeling had been passed to him in that look that made him feel so strange and defied all words? Kevin fumbled for an explanation, and it felt like nailing fog. That single moment had transcended all human language and every elaborate mental-and-vocal construct the Invid had.

"Okay, thanks, Commander, Belmont. Let me know when the Hos-Box is free to treat mine. I've no words to thank you for that."

"Lieutenant," Giraldi said firmly, "You don't need to waste words. Saving Rantoul was more than enough."

"Yeah. And I've got to radio mine so we can--take care of--Thieu." He ended it bleakly. "C'mon, Kev, let's get her back to rondezvous."

Shakily, he got to his feet with his burden, the confusion slipping his mind as he began to occupy himself with the gritty business of cleaning up.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Hey, Mandy," Miranda said, sticking her wooden-beaded cornrowed head in, "You got a house caller."

Amanda sat further up in her bed in her living suite. "I do?" She winced as her still-balky muscles did not quite cooperate. "Who is it?"

Miranda made a face, her dark skin shiny with the heat from outside. "Wouldn't say except he helped with saving your butt, sweetie. You think you want to see him?"

Mandy shrugged. "Sure. It's been a couple days. I need to get active tomorrow." Miranda smiled and left, leaving Mandy in the darkened and empty room. Everyone else was out, leaving her with throbbing pains from the antibiotic injections and the residues of her paralysis slowing her responses, and occasionally, the company of the other walking wounded. Except for that and the grief and nightmares over Thieu's death, it had been a dull time.

Her caller cautiously entered the room. Amanda recognized him from the disaster at the waterhole, but he was obscured in the gloom she preferred at the time.

"You want the lights up?" she asked. He smiled and shook his head.

"No, that's fine. But thanks for asking." He held out a store vase and its contents, which she slowly took and placed on the table. "Just a gift."

She looked and smiled. "Where did you get them?"

He chuckled. "A lot of roses seem to have gone wild in the area. I hope you don't mind the color. It's for friendship. Turns out it's also a nice match to your hair. I've always been fond of yellow," he said with a wistful tone.

"They're beautiful. Thank you. I didn't think you'd come, Mr. Belmont, what with you being with the Riders and all."

"Mnnh," Belmont said, sucking on a lip. "Actually, that was the reason why, Amanda. To be honest, I'm not a part of the Apocalypse Riders. I was passing on the way through and was staying with them for a couple days when the Invid attacked. Naturally I tried to help out. I'm going to be leaving tomorrow, so I'm paying my respects to you now. I'm glad to see you're doing fine, especially," he added slyly, "since you're a cute girl and the Earth needs a few more." Amanda grinned, blushing.

"Amazing you can think that after I took a swim in a cow spit resevoir. It wasn't the drowning so much as finding out what I'd inhaled," she shuddered in disgust. He laughed.

"Happens. I have a friend of mine I haven't seen for a few years now. She's about your age. I wonder what she's like now." He sighed and went silent.

"So why are you--passing through, then?" she asked.

"I'm...looking for people I know," he said at last. "They're scattered all over the continent. Besides...the Invid has taken an intense disliking to me."

"Ah," she said. "Should I ask why?"

"Better not. I want to leave as light a trail behind me as I can. Sorry."

"No matter," she affirmed, lapsing into an awkward silence. Belmont broke it after a couple of moments.

"Your friend is extremely brave," he said softly. "I don't think you realize how brave."

"Who? Kevin?"

There was a nod. "Anyone who'd go into a body of water of unknown depth in full battloid is either courageous beyond belief or stupid. Maybe both. Or..." he trailed off meaningfully.

"Or what?"

"Or he thought your life was much more important than his own. You'll have to look out for him, Amanda. If he places that much value in you..."

Amanda was beginning to understand the implications and did not want to. Belmont rose from his seat and shook her hand. "I've got to leave now, because I need to get away before the Invid start seeing connections in the assault. I don't know if I'll be back in the area any time soon, so take care, and maybe we'll meet again."

She squeezed back, her mind racing. "Will you be all right? It's not a pretty world out there anymore."

He managed a chuckle. "I've crossed some hostile land in my time, so I don't think you ought to worry on that score." He went serious again. "You'd be better to keep an eye on your own affairs. Also," he rubbed his forehead under his chevroned headband, "keep in mind what I said about Kevin. People like him aren't liked by the enemy. Especially now--there's a marked rise in the rate of purges, and resistance is attacked first."

"Are you implying something?" she asked blandly, removing her hand from his.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Nothing more than what you already know." Her intake of breath was met with an eyeglint and a knowing nod as he leaned in. "I've--been around--enough to see the signs, Amanda, although in his case it took a long time for me to realize it. The way he responds to attacks so much more quickly than a normal person, the way he doesn't flush in this heat after fighting that long--it's there. You don't realize how dangerous his position is now. I don't think he does either.

"Amanda, he's not the only one to object to this occupation. I've known a few--others. Over half of them are dead now." Despite herself she gulped again.

"I don't mean to scare you, but if you at all care for him, you have to realize that you make him vulnerable in a way that makes things even more hazardous for him. It's a warning I'm giving you, because like it or not, it's the truth."

She was trembling. "Who the heck are you?"

"Me?" Belmont said, rising. "Just another fighter in this war, Mandy. That's all I am. Get better. People need you too."

Before she could protest, he was out in the hall. Rattled by his cryptic statements, she stared at the yellow roses in the vase and fought a losing battle with trying not to understand what he meant.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Fucking tires!" Gerald growled, attempting to find a leak to no avail. Malcolm, helping keep the Super Saber steady on the jack as Gerald looked and exercised his vocabulary, raised his eyes to the concrete heavens in plea.

Kevin, kibtizing nearby, said, "Hey, look now, tires don't reproduce. You never can even get them together long enough even if they did." He followed this profound statement up with a glass of water upturned on his head, flooding his already sweat-soaked white undershirt and turning his hair into dribbling stringlets. The entire garage smelt like an unhygenic armpit, thanks to the 90-plus degree heat filtering in from the outside.

"Oh aren't you the genius--" A shattering crash followed. "My hand! The son of a bitch almost fell on my hand!" Gerald bawled. "Kevin, you twinky bastard, you broke my concentration!"

Malcolm was still snickering. "Nope, he broke mine." Gerald gave him a slow, gray-hot glare of indignation.

"'Look down, your pants are falling!'" Kevin yodeled back derisively. Gerald turned the look times two on him, and was answered with a sweet smile.

A repressed snigger burst out into a snort that was not from either of the three. The visitor looked apologetic and stepped out.

_Now really,_ Kevin thought, _ know I seen the guy before... Is this what they call deja vu?_

"Could I speak to you for a second, Mr. O'Shea?" he asked him, still trying to hold in laughter. Kevin shrugged and complied, leaving the others to their work.

The air outside was thick with insects and cicada noise and was stifling, but at least there was a breeze. Kevin was thankful for that.

"Nice dye job," he commented.

"What? Oh, yes, thanks. I try and keep it up, although the ingredients are hard to get these days. Had to cut the length down," he said with some regret.

"Understand. What you want me for? Presume Matt wanted me to give you the recent moves over in this area. I've got a folder inside that I keep up in my glorious tradition as scout."

"Yes, that'd be nice. I'm going to pass the information on to the next group I meet and keep spreading it. It'll give us a way of comparing things regionally." Belmont looked over at the other. "With the way things seem to be going, there's been sometimes abrupt differences in how the Invid are running their campaigns in certain areas of the continent. What we need to know is why."

Kevin shook his head. "I haven't the faintest clue."

"Hmm," his companion said. Absently, he began to trace on the hot concrete of the garage entrance. "Do you realize that the Kraken Inorganic has only appeared in the area east of the Missisippi and north and west of the Shenandoahs and Appalachians?"

Kevin stared, stunned, and shook his head again.

"That's not normal behavior for distributing an Invid mecha."

"No it wasn't--in the last war. But then again, nor was cooperating with EBSIS factions, new mecha popping up all of a sudden, sudden enslavement operations, or weird hybrid mecha. This isn't the only case, Mr. O'Shea. Several other unique types of unpiloted mecha have shown up in other sections of the continent too, confined to certain areas. I don't know what's going on, but this is very worrisome behavior." His finger began to tap, then trace again. "If I were you, I'd watch out for new improvisations. A really nasty type popped up in an adjacent area, a little probe-spy droid. I gave its specifics to Lieutenant Ulm, but keep your eyes open."

Mouth a line, Kevin nodded.

That tapping and tracing was really annoying, he thought. Half against his will, his eyes were drawn to Belmont's finger.

"To be frank, I haven't understood what's been going on since '43, since the new mecha started to show up..." Kevin trailed off, trying to keep his train of thought with that tapping distracting him. Suddenly his eyes widened as comprehension hit him.

Belmont's index finger, now tracing again, was doing it in a specific manner.

Kevin glanced up, around, and listened in on the conversation sifting from inside the garage. There seemed to be no notice of them. He looked around for any hypothetical probe droids. He already knew for a fact there were no living Invid in the area, present self excepted of course.

"I'm a Friend," he said softly, emphasis on the capital letter. Belmont's eyes widened, and he nodded.

"I figured you would be," he said. "There was evidence."

"Any other Friends you've seen in the last six months?"

Belmont said, "I've seen only one, but heard of two others. They--had to leave."

Kevin inhaled, closing his eyes, and let out a breath that was half sob. "That many?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. They didn't leave easily, though." Kevin nodded.

"What about the other friend of ours?"

"Still alive, but hiding. Their family doesn't like them. Have you seen any?"

"Two years ago my elder sister came by."

A spark lit in the other man's care-aged eyes. "Which one?"

"The third one."

Belmont's face went so still that Kevin had a shock. At last, he said, "At least her family won't know where she is, if that's the most recent report."

"I haven't seen any other Friends of mine. Sorry, Belmont."

"It's just as well. The two that left were closely involved with each other. How many 'other' friends here do you have?"

Kevin's brows hiked. "Two. The second one was an accident, but she's not fair-weather."

"That's good news. Any other friends you got from elsewhere that came around? I'm looking for a couple for a reunion." Kevin shook his head, leaving his questioner looking disappointed.

"Hope you find them, though. Good friends are hard to find these days."

The intent look was gone as Belmont's eyes rolled up to the heavens. "Tell me about it." Kevin snickered. "Well, take care. I'm always glad to hear about the family. I've got problems of my own with them, and don't want to visit some on you. Show me your information and then I'll be on my way."

"Sure." They shook hands, leaving Kevin standing alone by the wall, watching the other's lavender-tinted head disappear down the ramp.

"Tell me about it," Kevin said flatly to himself, shaking his head. He then came back to himself and dashed down the ramp and back inside.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Six months had passed, long enough for the glassy hole in the ground to gain the first few tentative holds of plant life sprouting from the caved-in walls and passageways. A tangle of weeds straggled in the brooding heat of late summer over the blasted, hundred-yard wide depression, assuming strange and bizarre shapes in the gathering gloom of an August evening, lurching in the sporadic hiss of breeze. Except for the flitter of bats awakening overhead and the day's-ending complaints of robins and other feathered life settling in, there was no other sign of living movement.

Humans, despite everything, are poor observers, and it would have taken one a couple minutes to realize the strangeness in the atmosphere was the complete cessation of that movement, leaving nothing but the wind.

The breeze shifted, and shifted again, into unnatural directions, as though struggling to escape. It became omnidirectional, began to blow into the clearings from all angles. Then it began to blow outward in the same manner, carrying a hot breeze that stank like ozone and cooked dust and metal, the focus a section of space near the collapsed complex.

There was a sudden hidden rush as all the small nocturnal life in the area scrambled away, and then the sound began.

Or rather, it had already been there, in the sullen cyclical depths shared by earthquake vibrations and thunder, but had finally decided to rise to a point where limited human hearing could understand it, if only as a dull rumble. The creatures of the night, though, had made it out much earlier, and ingrained genetic memory classified it immediately as Bad News.

The rumble grew, in pitch and volume, so a low roar filled the clearing.

And then, there was light.

It split in a jagged rip, suspended and described in a manner that even if it was not so bright to blind, it would have caused nausea to try and understand; it was not the normal dimensions of height, depth, and width it was occupying. Reality was being torn apart like a piece of tissue, and it was not so neat.

The tear grew, and widened, until a second sun seemed to occupy the river-valley woods. In the middle of it, something dark and more understandable moved, walked, and somehow identified with the space the reality-rip had entered. The roar grew to a freight-train pitch.

And then, there was silence.

To describe the lack of noise after an overwhelming quantity of it is not possible. Silence gonged with aftervibrations as though the air molecules themselves hadn't gotten used to it. The same, perhaps, could be described of the darkness.

Some wind came up. Tree leaves rustled.

There was suddenly a crash, and yipes of pain. Then, human language filled the clearing:

"Aw shit, who turned out the lights?"

There were more collisions. At length, there were a few grunts and the source of the noises heaved itself out of the collapsed passageway into which it had tripped, whimpering.

Then light sprouted agian, this time reduced a hundredfold. It came from a small sphere that hovered, disregarding gravity and conventional means of production. There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Toto," the voice said, "I don't think we're in San Francisco anymore."

Limping, the figure began to wander around, making bemused noises at the wreckage. "Not only there's a big lack of streetlights, everything's had a nasty meltdown, and somebody's really been into a reforestation project. Either that, or--" There was a dull chunk, and another filthy word, breaking off the sarcastic monologue.

"And the trolleys they make were really interesting in design. In fact--" It bent to study the source of the toe-stubbing.

There were no noises at all.

A minute passed.

"Oh. My. God." A sudden rise in breathing. "Don't tell me I, oh no, curse you, you little fool, you've you yourself into a fine pickle now..." There was a grunt, and then a stumble. "Have to get out, if they've picked up..." A pant, and then the lightsphere was gone, and there were crashes and gasps that distanced themselves into the woods..

Behind, the claw lifelessly dug itself into the ground, as the night covered all.


	6. Chapter Six

**Dandelions: Chapter 6 of 9**

**November 2045**

"Listen up, people."

Dennis strode back and forth in front of the line, his CVR boots clunking dully against the tiles of the floor. He raked them with a glance, secretly approving. Although he did not care for Ulm's laxity, he was glad to see that the rest knew when to behave. Even Ulm's lover, whom he knew detested him, was staring at him with concentration in his eyes.

"As you know, we now have forty-five functioning Cyclones, each of which use a couple canisters yearly of Protoculture in order to work at optimum level. Considering the flying we do, that lifespan is sharply reduced. Furthermore, we are almost finished with completing repairs on a VAF-8R Shadow Alpha, which requires far more. If we're going to move it, it needs to be fueled. In short, Elms, we're running out, and don't have any replacements for our stockpiles.

"Even though we use fusion if we can help it, in some cases it can't equal protoculture in function and manuverability. And frankly, people, I'd rather run the risk of more Invid detecting us rather the risk of any one of you getting killed because we have no protoculture to spare. Ergo, we need to get more. And the only feasible way to do this is hit a farm."

Mutters arose. Sternly, he said, "Look, your first CO agrees with me on this. The Invid are cracking down. We can't risk signs of trade among other groups or towns without attracting unfriendly attention. The Apocalypse Riders, for instance, has its hands full with the Invid as it is. Whoever organized the strike against Rantoul is a sore loser. Plus, the Riders and the other resistance bands need what they have. So the trick is bring the fun back to the Invid." Off to the side, he felt rather than saw Ulm's nod.

"That's fucking crazy," a newcomer said softly. Agreement backed him up.

"It's been done before," Malcolm pointed out. "You just weren't there when it happened."

"Okay," Sherry said, "How does the plan go, Dennis?" She looked almost ridiculously small in her oversize armor, as though playing dress-up in her mother's things. There was nothing childlike about the hard resolve in the black almond eyes. She ruffled her now green-and-indigo locks, her numerous earrings chiming gently. "Like the last time, the speedy guys--meaning me, Harmon, Elizabeth, and damn-all everyone else you can think of--providing air support and recon while the muscle nabs it?"

Zinnert gave a reluctant nod. "And the sharpshooters providing cover for the power." It was the only way he could think of maximizing Rutherford's ...extraordinary talents in that area. "There's more, but yes, that is the gist of it." Doi's nostrils flared, the little gold ankh-stud catching light as she did so.

"So what's the farm in mind, Dennis?" Rutherford asked in her honeyed Kentuckian drawl. "I do hope you got in mind somethin' far away enough the bugs don't know where to look for the swatters."

"Glad you asked that, Rutherford," The blinding smile she turned on him left him trying to collect his thoughts for a second. He put it away, albeit reluctantly; a career REF officer had no time for that. He looked over to Matthew. Ulm nodded, and threw the switch.

The holographic countour map flared into life, then established itself as a representation of the surrounding terrain. One white asterisk began to flash. "This is where we are." Secondary lights began to come to life. "These are either surrounding towns or known resistance bases--the latter are the stars." Now, sullen red lights began to sprout. "And these are the known Invid outposts."

Ulm took over. "You all know our little friend here." He gestured to one red mote. Mumbles arose; it was the hive strongly suspected of providing the troops for the Rantoul hit. "And this one," moving east and north. This blot was larger, believed to be a controlling hive. White lights began to flash; keen minds could make out that a rough circle of white flashers extended from around the red marker. "And these are towns known to have been attacked or taken by the Invid." . A similar, but slightly smaller affected radius was flashing around another major hive across the blue band that was the Missisippi. Both came frightfully close to their site; only a few towns, to the south and west, remained steady. "This doesn't have much to bear on our next mission, I suppose, except as an illustration of how desperately we need fuel and how close we are to being hit." He moved in front of the holo-map, carrying a pointer. It traced downward, away from the blinking areas. Eventually, it came to rest approximately a hundred and fifty miles away toward the south-southwest, on a red star.

"We're going away from those spheres, since if we keep hitting those aggressors, they're eventually bound to put two and two together. The information we're gotten indicates that different areas seem to have different MO's, which indicates that the command's not as unified as it was during the last occupation, but that also there is a unified leadership of whatever sort controlling within whatever sector you choose. It also means that we make better not make ourselves too familiar to whatever's running things in either of those spheres, or it'll increase interest. However, if it's a different area, it's not as high a risk."

"Depending, of course, how you rate 'high'," Fred said. Dennis made a face and concurred.

"Yes. Well, whatever's in that area hasn't been as hot on enslaving civilians, maybe because whatever it is doesn't really need it, since the resources are already there. The other reason we're interested there being that that particular area is unusually high in Flower concentration. And where Flowers of Life are, protoculture farms aren't far behind. This thing," a gesture at the sourthern dot, "appears to be one, and it's going to be the one we target. Any volunteers?"

No hands came up. All of them seemed to have gotten down the first rule of recruitment down pat. Zinnert sighed to himself, taking out the list he had prepared in case. He could feel Ulm grinning ruefully off to the side, which chafed.

How was it that the man could prompt ready devotion when his idea of command was a shambles, while he himself only got reluctant compliance? Zinnert was yet again staggered by it. He had traveled half a dozen worlds and yet could not understand the sullenness he received when faced with his own people.

"Okay, well then, if you're so eager to offer your services, I'll tell you where you need to be assigned. Acheson, Elwin, heavy backup 2; Altman, Malcolm, heavy backup 1; Ballard, Krystal, light backup 1..."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Shiroikiku bounced along the trail at a (for her) slow clip, savoring the feeling of the Battler undernath her. She had recently been upgraded to the new mecha due to her capabilities and was enjoying every second of it. It meant that she could kick alien rear even more effectively than before. With a kill rating that was in the top five, this only boded good things.

"Hey, Doi!"

"Yeah?"

"How much further, you reckon?" Gwen asked. Her blazing hair added color to the bland monochrome of the late fall, counterpoint to the dull greens and tans of the mecha they were riding. It streamed out from underneath her helmet like a banner into the wind.

"Unh. I think Matt's gonna let us within twenty or so miles of the farm, then we're gonna stop for the night, and hit it tomorrow morning. Do it well rested. I think we're almost there now. 'Course since I was raised thinking kilometers my sense of measurement's fucked."

"Hhm. I'm gonna hafta cover you, you know."

"While I kick bug ass. I got no worries, Gwen." The other woman chuckled, full aware of her prowess. Sherry grinned, aware of her own. Then the grin melted away. "'Bout myself anyway."

"Huh?"

Shit, she'd let it slip. "Well, I can damn well cover myself. It's the other people I--" Well, hell, it was almost a given one or two would not be here to see the day after tomorrow, at least not intact. But...

"Ah, don't worry, Malcolm'll be fine."

"Huhn. Always that anni disc out there with your name written on it." She had been a child of the military long enough not to raise foolish hopes.

Besides, despite the seeming casualness of her relationship with Malcolm Altman, she truly cared about him with a depth she was often frightened by. No matter if you got killed, but if someone you were close to got it a bit of you died with them, leaving the rest of you to feel all the pain. That was the worse fate.

Gwndolyn grunted. "You telling me, hon." She said no more, trapped in whatever thoughts swam through her own mind.

Yeah, Doi thought, as the Battler thudded its shock-shattering way along the overgrown, rubble-filled trail south. No shit she knows. Unlike me, she knows up close and personal what happens in an Invid hive and has the nightmares to prove it. She's got lots to think about all right.

However, she had plenty of company with her own.

_Ha, just think what my parents would think if they knew I was shacking with someone like Malcolm, _she sniffed._ Bad enough they had cats when I didn't stick to a nice little desk job and trucked off to Reflex Point with the Jupiter instead. Damned glad there's a sweet few dozen light years between here and Tirol. Place always did remind me of a bad set from Ben-Hur. And you think I could be a sweet little addition to their wishful dreams of "getting back to their roots" in that place? Shichisei my banana butt I will, yeah, and Zentraedi have pituitary problems._

_At least if I get my ass wiped here by the crabs I won't get gravel raked over me, a headstone with kanji, and their saying prayers to Shiroikiku Evelyn Doi's spirit in Japanese every so often. Badly. Mispronounced. The Tokugawa shogunate would shit bricks. Hell's preferable to that._

_Not to mention the slight possibility of their darlin' little White Crysanthemum having a kid that half-**won't** be Nipponese._

_God, my grandparents should have married Anglos or Spaniards or Zentraedi or God knows what before they produced my parents. That would have put a break on badly done ethnic searches right off. Man, I may not be on that sort of kick but at least I know when it ain't being done well._

_At least Malcolm's never tried to make me into something else I ain't. Pity my parents will see only the melanin ratios. What a dumbfuck thing to think about when you're on another planet with a whole bunch of people whose closest relation to you is a couple tens of milennia back at the least._

_If they'd been the ones to splash through the shit getting shot at by bugs, they might've seen how stupid the deal is. Corpses are corpses. Down here I've seen enough of them and the way they got that way to know all the innards tend to be the same. _Her hands clamped down on the unfamilliar handle grips, hard.

You didn't think about it. Some parts were okay to remember, but after a while some...you just stuck them back there and didn't bring up.

And you sure as hell hoped that nobody you'd lived with would end up in one of them.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Matthew Ulm, former Second Lieutenant of the Southern Cross, was otherwise occupied.

"Dennis, once we settle down, we have to get a look at the situation, then finalize plans for tomorrow. You got the records from the last time we had to go on a recovery trip?"

The Battler off to his side made a grunt of confirmation. "Of course I do. And we do need to look. Depending on how things are is going to determine our approach." Privately, Dennis hoped that no civillians were being held as slaves. It made things--complicated, and with their own force probably not near that manning the farm numbers-wise... Innocents were not something he cherished putting at risk. "The first scout made his records available." Dennis paused; Matthew steeled himself, knowing what question was coming next. "So why isn't O'Shea on this trip?"

Matthew paused; likely any way he phrased it Dennis might interpret it as favoritism. "Basically because we've got others trained by him in the fine art of sneaking around. Furthermore, I can't deploy every experienced Elm on this trip. If..." we get wiped out, he added silently, "he's got to keep things in line back home, as will Miranda. I thought that was our arrangement at any rate." He made a half-grunt, half-rueful laugh. "He wasn't happy about it, if it makes you feel better."

_Damn right he wasn't. _Although he knew he had to play Fuzz/ Bug-Buster for Base One, the rogue Invid was still refusing to talk to Ulm as they had left.

"If I get back," Ulm said in the now, "he's not going to be talking to me for a week at least. I hardly call that favoring him." _Gee, I wonder why he didn't ask about Miranda's status,_ he thought with slight sarcasm.

"You say if." Dennis commented.

"Always that chance. You know that."

"Well." Dennis seemed to leave it at that, and concentrate on the matter at hand. "According to what I remember of the map, we ought to get near it in another hour, barring any surprises. Ten miles should be sufficient. We'll keep it on hidey-hole setting--" Elms slang for a vigilant nightwatch and camping setup that was ready to move at any notice, "get scout reports, and then, giving favorable conditions, move before dawn."

"And with luck, we'll be able to infiltrate the place and get the goodies we need without too much trouble. Right."

Dennis sighed. "But as we both know by now, like you said, there's always that chance."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYAAAAAAA!!!!!!"

Matthew bolted upright in his bedroll, disoriented in the darkness. The scream repeated as he was out and running toward the source, barely missing the fire in the pursuit. His skin was clammy in direct reaction to a sound that was wringing out every nerve he had.

"What is it?"

He finally saw something; a new recruit hanging on to a struggling figure in a bedroll that was shrieking still, but lessening. He managed to get enough light to see the red hair of the person.

"Gwen, what is--" She had awakened and calmed down enough so that there was no more screaming, although by now half the company hunched together in the rocky little defile was awake.

She sobbed something like "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean--" as he knelt down, his feet freezing in the cold, and took hold of her shoulders.

"It's all right Gwen, it's all right."

"The fuckin' bugs are probably gonna--"

"Hardly, Gwen." This was not the first time Gwen had awakened like this, but it was the first time in the field and certainly one of the most intense. Memories left their mark. "Night critters, they're going to think it is. Easy, easy, you're among us. You're safe."

The redhead, although she was still panting and shaking from whatever nightmare had taken her, was beginning to reassume her usual insouciant oh-it's-nothing-I-meant-to-do-that attitude. "Well, there goes our nightie hours, folks. Sorry." Ulm snorted below her hearing.

Fred was fairly unsympathetic. "Nice of you to play alarm clock."

Ulm sighed further at the insinuation. "Let's not get into the my-pain-is-bgger-than-yours, Bohms. Gwen--will you be all right now? I have medications."

"_No._ No medications. I'll be fine." The sharpshooter was resolute in refusing any further consolation, so Ulm wearily rose and encountered Zinnert, who had been manning watch.

"You sure we should take her in? She seems a bit unstable at the moment."

"I take it you've never been held prisoner in an Invid hive, Lieutenant?"

Zinnert's mouth tightened. "No, but--"

"Please, don't presume. Some of these people have much more intimate vendettas with the Invid than you or I can ever imagine. Remember Gwen's one of them."

Zinnert still looked stiff with offense--no surprise there. Six years of knowing him meant that usually it wore off. Matt was embarrassed for reminding him that after all this time he was still the outsider. "Will Rutherford be all right?"

"She knows she has to be. I'll keep an eye on her, Dennis. I'm supposed to be the people person and you the strategic type, right?" Dennis relaxed and rewarded him with a half-smile.

"Right. Thanks for the reminder, Ulm."

"Anytime." Ulm leaned in. "One of these days...you're going to be the useful one. I'm just an old fart that looks competent."

Dennis grinned, pained. "One of these days, old man, you're going to realize they think I'm a stratified idiot from Tirol who still doesn't know the ropes. And that I believe them."

Ulm sighed, gripped his arm, and left in order to get what sleep he could.

Over in another bedroll, Fred Bohms hunched, thinking resentfully, _It's not that my pain is bigger than hers, Lieutenant. It's that she thinks her pain is the only one there is._

Elsewherel, Amanda Pierson held herself and quivered, incapable of returning to sleep. Gwendolyn's shriek had not caused the sweat that turned her bangs to the color of wet straw. In fact it had broken it, for Amanda herself had been mired in nightmare. Unlike Gwen, no one knew.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"There it is. In all its ugly glory." Malcolm drawled this with seeming unconcern, then passed the night-vision binoculars to Amanda. She looked and drew in a breath.

A half-mile away, through the last fifty yards of trees, she could make out open land. Beyond it, in the distance, she could make out the faint ghost-shimmer of some sort of energy barrier. From her quick surveyal of the area yesterday afternoon (Kevin had been a thorough instructor), beyond it lay the extruded-looking outbuildings of the protoculture farm.

A massive figure tromped its path around the outer barrier, the clawed feet of the Combat Trooper piercing and rutting the stiff soil as it did so. She already had an idea of how often such patrols were.

It was the intervening distance between the barrier and the scrawny trees that caused her to wrinkle her eyes.

"Is it me," she whispered, "Or--"

"It's not you," Malcolm said. "Those little stinkers're worse'n crocuses. I've seen them blooming in mid-January."

Amanda shook her head, amazed despite herself. "Still. I've never seen so many even in summer before."

"And you don't want to, kid. When you go in, you're gonna need a mask, because if they're sporing, one snort you'll be seeing green bunny rabbits for the rest of the day. Not what you're gonna want."

Amanda eyed the pale spread of three-petaled flowers before returning the viewer to Malcolm. She wiped her hands on her pants for the seventh time that hour.

"Well, you're going to want to wish me luck." Malcolm looked solemn as she said this. "I hope I can get away with it."

"Me too. I'd go, but--"

"You're too big to be all that sneaky. And I hope to God there's no captives inside." She paused, a tremble in her voice. "Just make sure I can get out, please."

"Glad to oblige."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_What a disgrace this place is._

_Not only does he have the gall to send me to this Motherforsaken Unaligned farm, he also apparently hasn't recently seen how it's been run. And he thinks that this place isn't producing enough._

_Even I can see why!_

The slender, chitin-armored figure stepped out of the outpost hive entrance and fretfully began to circumnavigate the perimeter of the building. She had been unable to sleep after having awakened as she had lain on the pallet placed in the commander's chamber for her convenience. Besides, dawn would soon make any attempts moot. Already, the sky was beginning to gain a pearly texture to the east.

Although the sharp breeze through her long pale hair was refreshing in its way, Oryo'i sighed and placed the helmet on her head, pushing the hair up underneath. One had to keep up appearance when dealing with one's inferiors.

She watched the Malar change their shifts, the night patrol replaced by the morning. The Torabs and Iigai out on the perimeter did not change their unceasing rounds. It was only the Malarosm and above that seemed to need a respite from higher thought activity. She continued her pace around the hive, glaring through the helmet iris at the outposts and shipping buildings. One particularly makeshift contruction caught her eye and she plummeted into even deeper grimness.

_Only our kind can work here, he says? Only a few humans left to harvest the fields here? He is just as blindly spiteful toward them as toward me! Humans cannot be exposed to Flower spores without protection. No wonder the majority of the workers that came here died or went mad after a few lunar cycles. But Shkud doesn't care._

_How amusing. We actually have something in common. Shkud's spite. Was he like this before, after the Ascension and before he became Kulagi? Such a while--I don't think I remember. A true pity he is currently reponsible for this area. Asaav seems to have given up on it._

_Fortunately after I get this particular shipment of plants and opredti readied for transport to the orbital hives I can leave. But I had better be certain to do a prolific shipment of it. I have no wish for any more of "my lord's" frustrations directed at me..._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

On the other side of the hive, away from observation, a figure wriggled belly-down through the chilly foliage. By all rights it was cold enough to freeze the Flowers of Life, but neither frost nor browning marred the pink petals and green leaves of the plants. Amanda was very grateful that they were high enough to obscure her progress in the predawn twilight.

An overripe red fruit, about the size of a tomato, fell off a plant and collided with the ground in a splat. Amanda froze. Five minutes later, she moved again, her heart still thundering along.

"You know the drill, Pierson," Dennis had told her. "Get into position. Then wait."

Amanda was hoping fervently that the other ruffling trails in the fields were out there. She would be severely embarassed if she were the only one ready to sneak in past the perimeter once things started to happen.

She patted her backpack. Good. All of her presents for the Invid were ready. And once empty, it could carry enough protoculture for several Cyclones.

Her nose itched terribly, but she was afraid to scratch it and perhaps break the seal her mask had with her skin. It was only a simple cloth arrangement, but it seemed to work given the continuing lack of hallucinations she was failing to experience. Within twenty minutes, according to the several years of scouting notes in Kevin's neat hand, the barrier would fall in order to let the Enforcers and Sentinels out for harvesting work, and she had to be ready to dash the second the decoy began. She hoped in the meantime the track of movement she and the others had made hadn't been seen from the air by the Attack Scouts sweeping the area.

There was a yelp. Amanda choked and realized it wasn not a human sound. The yapping began again, and her eyes flitted frantically around, incapable of looking behind herself and seeing nothing. Whatever the thing was, it was barking its fool head off. Was it some sort of feral chihuahua?

Amanda craned her eyes around as far as they would go in their sockets, trying to avoid moving her head. Her eyes popped as she heard a rasping, vigorous pant dashing around her. Then the yelping began again.

_Ohshit what if the noise attracts them?_ she thought in terror. She would have thrown something at the source but she could not risk any extraneous movement.

_I'm nice, really I am, I'm not meaning any harm. Just shut up, you little monster!_ Then she almost shrieked.

Something was walking up her leg, snuffling. Eyes closed and shaking, she supposed it was better than the prior barking. Suddenly, the weight dropped off, still panting away, circling around her. White fluff caught her eye as the thing got within the range of her vision.

_Chihuahua my ass,_ she thought dazedly. _Did somebody's pet get loose?_ The fuzzy entity danced up fearlessly in front of her and sat, red tongue vibrating in overdrive with its pants. It regarded her, then began to scratch with a hind leg.

_This is not happening. If I didn't know better, I'd say I was being scoped out by this thing. This is **not** happening._ Unmoving, she watched it watch her, aware that time was ticking down and she wasn't quite in position yet.

Finally, the dog got up, sniffled her gloved hand, and licked it. Then it was gone in the mini-forest of flower stalks.

_Those weren't horns there? Nah, just a figment of my imagination. Dogs don't have horns._

As the final minutes passed to zero hour, she wriggled a few yards closer to the barrier, narrowing the distance she would need to run, her hands wet in their gloves. Heart thumping, she then waited.

The sky took on a shade of pink to the east.

The energy barrier, Invid behind it and waiting for the harvest, began to flare and fade. With an eerily silent snowflake-like melt, it fragmented and disappeared.

Trembling, she watched as forty yards over to her left the monstrous, utterly inhuman armored figures began to file out.

Her muscles tensed.

Any time now.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"It's down!" Malcolm hissed.

At selected points around the periphery of the woods, hands began to move, light and ignite. Next to the solid bulk of the crouching Malcolm, Fred's saturine features, white with tension, watched as the aliens continued to file out.

When the match had almost burnt down, he lifted it to the wick.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The forest margin erupted.

The Elms lying in the fields were gifted with the fascinating sight of Enforcers doing a double take as a violent blaze of light, color, and noise threw what had been a dawn peace into bedlam.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Oryo'i's head jerked up.

**_What??_** she said in naked confusion. The blankly anonymous faceplate of the gray and orange battlesuit robbed her of any expression, but no being could mistake the posture of shock. Then understanding leaked in.

_All personnel, scramble! We are under attack! _ she shouted telepathically. Sod flew from under her feet as she dashed inside.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda ran, legs churning for all they were worth. She was too intent on her own welfare to note the dashing silhouettes that like her, were running for the now un-guarded gate. As expected, the Invid were going after the explosives, flares, and fireworks set up as a decoy, but they had seconds at most before they were detected.

Five seconds never felt so long before, but she was inside. Hearing gasps beside her, she dove for the shadow of the nearest outbuilding, desperate to get bearings.

She hid, in the shadow of a building that looked more grown than built, behind a piling. A hand jerked her on the arm, and before she could react, she was through a door and inside the tar-blackness of the interior.

Despite herself, she gagged on the odor inside. It was indescribably awful, filled with fetor and decay. Whoever had helped her was choking as well. Surpressing it, they huddled inside, into the darkness. Outside were continuing explosions, roars of Invid jets, and occasionally human shouts.

Amanda was full aware they had to move. "Who is it?"

"Oh, it's you," Gwen's voice said, flatly.

"The last I checked," Amanda said. "We gotta go before they start looking." A grunt of confirmation, and they began to sidle around.

"Further inside. That's where...they keep it." the other woman said. The two dashed outside, around the building. Gwen and Mandy nodded at the same time, seeing a familliarly shaped composition: it matched descriptions of what they wanted. It was unguarded, thanks to the chaos outside.

"Excuse me," Amanda said, remembering. The perimeter barrier was near; she deposited and readied one of her backpack's contents. She had made it back over to Gwen before a ThooOOMP made her stumble. The fence was down.

She made to throw another grenade, but Gwen hissed, "No! What if..." Mandy stiffened, realizing what she was implying.

"If there were, wouldn't there be..." Heavy footfalls came up behind them, and both women whirled in fear only to see Matthew.

'"I thought you were..."

"No time!" he barked. The Saber suit lunged over toward the storage depot. "You two, disable what you can and see if there's any captives. I'm going to get the supplies. The rest are near the north and south entrances." The two complied.

Amanda shrieked in challenge, tossing another grenade toward the main entrance. The organic looking watchtower erupted in shards and plasma.

A soft moan could be barely heard above the background devastation. It was arising from the first building the two had hidden in.

Eyes wide, the blonde and the redhead stared at each other. With the same thought, they turned toward the interior.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

As planned, Matthew met up with Sherry and her penetration squad as they neared the depot. Sherry was growling as thanks to the power of her Battler suit, she was rocketing forward as she ran. The rest were either in Battloid or in REF cold-weather uniform; the disablement squad could not have managed to get near to the base crawling in the cumbersome CVR.

Without a word, Shiroikiku and part of her armored band whirled and placed themselves at the entranceway; a few others took the point entering. Matthew carefully kept one eye on his helmet readings and another on the interior.

_I want this to be a raid, not a massacre,_ he told himself. _If anybody kind is listening from above..._

As his eyes adjusted to the humid interior, he drew in a whistling breath.

Like all Invid structures, the place looked more grown than constructed. Ulm could see the expressions on some of the unarmored troops; the outright revulsion was enough indication of their idea of the aesthetics of the place. The air was warm and carried a vegetable jungle reek. The Invid still thought that the attacks were coming from outside, so it was unpoliced. It was a matter of only a few minutes before they realized that they were wrong.

In the dim light, there was the glint off smooth, curved gray surfaces in long, stacked ranks.

"Okay!" he hissed. "Move in! The second I say get out, get out." The party fell to, yanking canisters with silent, clumsy haste. The entire time, Ulm kept an ear open on the radio, waiting for the first indication from those outside that the Invid had realized the ruse.

Three minutes had passed, and there was yet no sign. Yet something...

Matthew opened his mouth, years of instinct warning him. He turned back toward the outside to check, preparing to tell those inside to retreat.

At his question: "Nah nothing. Bugs still chasing the decoy parties all over the place."

"I..." He had a feeling of Something Not Being Right. Usually, he got it just as Kevin got a strange look in his eyes that was then followed by panic.

"Okay, group, move--"

"Oh CHRIST!" someone screamed. "It's--" The voice cut off into a roar and static. Sherry gasped, and dashed inside. The rest began to follow--and then a blaze of energy melted the last stragglers into their component elements. The heat was staggering.

"Lieutenant! It's--"

Ulm was not even listening. In a single leap, he had pivoted toward the one opposing wall that did not have protoculture canisters, and with a shouted command, loosed a shoulder missile. It detonated, leaving a hole large enough to admit human bodies.

"Doi, get them out! Now!"

"Matt--"

"DO it, Corporal!" A quick, reluctant stiffen, and Sherry took the point, leading the survivors with their cargo out. As she did so, she shouted, "Matt, it's--"

He was already moving toward the first entranceway

"I know what it is, Sherry. Good luck."

A strangled gulp, and she proceeded to fight her way out.

Matt was disoriented as he made it into the sullen autumn dawn, arming his missiles. What waited for him was what he expected, but still, an icy trickle of sweat made its way down his armored back.

He saw attention being drawn for him--and leapt.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Hands slick, Gwen found the lantern and turned it on low, as the low groan sounded again.

The visual added to the olfactory input was enough to make her gorge rise.

It was, in the most basic sense of the term, a pen.

At one time it had held at least a hundred bodies. It was, like all Invid architecture, organic in look and nature, but it did not take the humans much to see that very little effort had been put into it. Pallets, encrusted with unnameable substances, were raised about two feet off the floor and seemed to be intended for sleeping. There seemed to be no toilet facilites except for a container over by a wall. Even in the November cold, the stench was overpowering.

It looked empty, but then there was movement over in the corner, on an isolated pallet.

Gwen was too possessed by past ghosts to notice, but Amanda gasped. The movement became more pronounced.

"Leave me alone...alone..." a hoarse voice rasped. "Oh leave me alone, so I can sigh and die and fry..." The cadence was in a high, childlike croon, and something aimless and empty about the chant sent daggers up the spines of both Elms.

"Who's there?" Amanda snapped in terror, her voice muffled by the mask. Backed by Gwen, she made her way over to the pallet. There was a huddled mess that looked like a bundle of rags, but it moved.

"Aliens and aliens, go and go..." the chilling singsong continued.

"We're not Invid," Amanda said. "Please, we've come to get you out."

Some recognition appeared in the blank tones. "Get me out? Are you humans?"

"Yeah." Gwen said.

A high giggle came. "Oh no human gets out oh no. You stay and you work and you lose your mind, just like me..." With an effort, the bundle unfolded itself.

Amanda stared, her face going utterly chalky white under her freckles. After a few seconds, she began to gag.

"Oh am I seeing am I seeing another ghost?" the prisoner said, something that might have been surprise crossing the empty voice. "Is it James's girl, come back to haunt me? Oh you are not Invid, you do not have the colors, you must be a ghost, nobody leaves here, not me or my baby, nobody at all..."

"Holy shit," Gwen panted, shaking like she was possessed.

The creature looked as though it might have been a hardy woman of Germanic descent in her mid-thirties, before months of privation and work had melted her into an etoliated caricature in rancid tatters and stringy mats of hair. The dark eyes in their pits of socket were not anything anyone would have called sane.

Amanda was making retching noises with no result. "Oh Jesus God, Gwen, I know her..." She was shaking.

"Shee-it," Gwen murmured. "Are there any others?"

The woman giggled, a noise with no hilarity in it. "Did some come here? Some did, and then they saw things, and then they died and now only we are left and we see things alone..."

"Mrs. Henderson!" Mandy gasped, barely coherent. "Where..."

"My baby don't wake my baby..." The clawed fingers aimlessly trailed in a direction, and Amanda saw a small figure in the corner, curled up, asleep or dead. "Are you sure you are alive? You have some of the color, just like the pale woman..." Something, coherent if not sane, for a moment glimmered in her eyes. "No! Not the pale woman, her hair like snow..." Raggedly, she began to scream in hoarse cries that were too exhausted to carry. The child in the corner stirred for a second.

"What woman?!" Gwen shouted, shaking in fear. 'Mandy, we've got to get out, the Invid are coming!"

"She's out there!" the wreck cried, purpose in her mad voice. "Run, take my baby! Their hand is on you, Amanda, I can see it! Before they crush you, run!"

"Let's do it," Gwen said, suddenly aware that far too much time had passed.

"I can't leave her! She's from my town!" Amanda snarled.

"Then you'll stay!" Gwen spat. The child did not protest as she hauled it into her arms. "And end up like her!"

"Mrs. Henderson--" Amanda began. She met a pair of eyes--eyes that seemed sane and calm.

"Amanda... You lived. Good. I am dead."

Casually, the madwoman lay back down, shifted as though going to sleep, and then went limp, her eyeballs fixed.

"God." Gwen gasped. "She's --."

Amanda stood staring, just before Gwen hauled savagely on her with her free arm.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Matthew flipped in midair, gravity nauseating him, seeing his worst nightmares step for him with plain intent.

He had expected Enforcers running the place, or even a few Strike Units, replacements for the Pincer Command Units. He had not expected, of all things, an Invid Assault Battloid at a minor farm, and that presumption had killed eight people by itself.

The Invid mecha, an affair in dark charcoal gray with vermilion trim, swiveled its sensor array, focusing on him.

It swiped its arm at him, and he barely managed to dodge before the slab of alloy whipped with enough force to crush stone. He swept back, concentrating on harrying the thing, enabling his command to get out with the materials needed to continue the Elms.

It was far larger than him, far stronger, and with a payload that dwarfed his.

This was not a fight Matthew Joseph Ulm expected to win.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Oryo'i snarled like a dog, her teeth gritted, intent on crushing this --insect, this malicious hindrance to her dignity, not even wishing to compliment it by destroying it with anything other than fist and arm. She had tried and tried beyond belief to fulfill her duty to the Invid, to a lord that would not be pleased, and this latest insult was beyond endurance.

She had waited until she had boarded her Gamun before setting the troops after the humans; any notice by them that her troops had known about their penetration would have set them off from the farm, before she could use the Gamun's weaponry to eliminate them in part, before she could see what they were trying, and before she could exact her vengance. She knew now who to destroy, first and foremost.

The rest were next on her list.

The human mecha darted around her like the fly it was. Rage boiling in her, she urged the Gamun up after it, fixed on settling the score once and for all.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Ulm could see one forearm swing towards him, plasma cannon primed. Before it discharged, he did the least likely thing; dove towards the mecha, close enough that neither cannons, missile launchers, or shoulder weaponry could focus on him. He readied his missiles.

The pilot, gifted with the human cunning of the Solugi rank, knew what he was planning and dodged out of the way; the missile Ulm loosed missing but the Assault Battloid's own targeting fix broken. It was not before the diving suit had flashed past the semi-transparent canopy and Matthew had seen what was piloting it.

The body armor the humanoids had taken to wearing rendered the pilot anonymous, but Matthew's concentration was shattered, knowing that an individual face was lurking behind the mask. There had been something about the way the suit was designed...

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_What?!_ Oryo'i barked mentally. Still reeling from her close call, she put aside vengefulness and concentrated on wiping him into free atoms. She released a missile, but the blazingly agile human mecha dodged.

_I will not have you humiliate me so again!_

She checked to see that the Malar were following his minions satisfactorily and then turned her attention back on him.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Sweat rolled down Ulm's face, his blood pounding in his temples, as he dashed around the hulking Invid, his mouth dry from his pants of exertion. He was forty-two years old, gods he wasn't up to doing this, any time now... He prayed in a tiny corner of his consciousness the incoherent prayers of the warrior, prayed the rest had managed to run for freedom, prayed that Kevin, the closest thing to a son he would ever have, would be able to survive in a world against him; prayed that somewhere, somehow, Kevin, the first Kevin, would have pity on his younger brother's eccentricities and would intecede for his alien namesake. _And for all the Gwendolyns, all the Geralds, Freds and Amandas that his dying might save. The last of the Ulm family would die like a true Catholic martyr,_ he thought. _Isn't that charming?_

In the rest of his mind, he simply fought for the time to take another breath.

The Battloid persisted after him; apparently it was quite aware of his role, and no surprise, Ulm thought. He knew what their pilots were capable of.

Ulm pushed aside the knowledge it could have been Kevin in that mecha and fired.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Malcolm and Fred knew from experience something had gone disasterously wrong as soon as the first raiding members had arrived, loaded with canisters and reduced in numbers. As per plan, Dennis had radioed the decoys to withdraw as fast as they could, scattering so groups could not be picked out by the Invid. Although what seemed like the entire farm's personnel had gone after, from the net it was obvious the tatic was working. With the Cyclones on fusion, the Scouts and Combat troopers had to rely on visuals, and the forests of Earth had proven to be the Elms' biggest ally.

The two men were holed up behind a tree, making certain everyone had gotten out, when the last band plunged past. A Battler stopped as the rest blazed by, its carriers loaded with canisters.

"Sherry, honey, where's Matt?"

"There!" she panted. "The place is run by a Marauder--he's taking it on singlehandedly--Malcolm, you have to--Gwen and Mandy--"

Frederick's contenance was gray and shaking, his breath hissing through teeth. Wordlessly, he gunned the engine, back toward the clearing.

"Jesus! Fred! Wait!"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Oh no--"

They emerged, seeing an eerily silent vista, before they saw the blast craters. It was Gwen, her arms loaded, whose eyes went upward and saw the two figures juking high in the air, one tiny, one massive and deadly.

"It's a Battloid! The fuckin' bugs had a sonofabitching transmute here!"

"It's Matt!" Amanda's eyes saw the fighting pattern clear as day. "Oh god, he's fighting that thing, we've got to help him!"

"We've got to get out! Come on!"

"YOU can go ahead." Unarmored, Amanda fixed stock and barrel to Gallant in two motions.

"You stupid little bitch, we've got a kid here!" The green eyes were dilated, ignorant of Gwen's screech, locked in a world perhaps the corpse back in the pen would have understood. White-faced, Amanda took aim and fired.

It failed to do anything important, except attract attention.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Two other humans?_ Oryo'i thought. Lazily, the arm plasma cannon reached out and blazed.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Gwen knocked Amanda down as the blast scorched and singed clothing, filling the air with the stench of hair. They rose to their feet with a bad case of sunburn but alive.

"Jesus, the Enforcers..." Gwen hissed.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Oryo'i had been distracted, but she moved to avoid the missile Matthew discharged.

_Wrong, human. Not this time._

He was wide open. Chuckling, she targeted.

Then, a thud of missile detonation sent her spinning crazily.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_What, I'm not dead?_ Matt thought distractedly.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_What?!? There are more??_ Oryo'i thought in shock. _Torabs, back_

_here!_

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Fred was snarling as he exploded into the air, Malcolm on his heels.

"Matt, get out!" Malcolm was shouting. "The rest are okay!"

"Kill YOU!" Fred screamed in pure hate. Armor-piercers left launchers, and for the first time in the fight they found their mark; Oryo'i had to draw her attention to the shocks her armor was taking.

"Okay! " Matt shouted, and dove.

Trying to draw attention elsewhere, Gwen reached in Amanda's pack, activated a few more grenades, and let them go, just as an armored arm wrapped around her waist and she was hauled shrieking into the air, human burden and all.

Amanda lost her footing again from the detonation, just as she was unceremoniously dragged into the skies, and the world blurred into blackness.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Several hours later, through the dint of activating false leads of protoculture radiation, Matt finally deemed that they had thrown off pursuit.

"Ten dead." he said in a emotionless voice late that night. Still in his armor, he did not look up as Malcolm walked up to him. Sitting on a fallen log in the thickness of skeletal trees, he looked pasty and exhausted to sickness, his eyes hollowed out with bister and a network of crow's feet that were more pronounced now than ever marring them.

"Sixty-seven canisters taken," Malcolm reminded him softly. "Matt, you gotta stop beating yourself over it."

"If I could, Malcolm, I would." The dark bearded face above the slumped commander made a grimace of sympathy. "It's never gotten better. It gets worse. And it's my fault."

"Bullshit." Altman said flatly.

"Look, if I'd kept in mind the possibility of a Marauder running that place--"

"You wouldn't have gone in, Matt! Look, if we'd sat on our duffs playing chess, we wouldn't have gotten killed either. We wouldn't have done a damn for the resistance either. And it wouldn't have helped shit when the crab lice came for us. "

"My logic, Malcolm, says yes." Ulm wiped something away from his eyes. "My emotions are doing veto power."

"Look man, I trust you, basically because you admit you have no idea what the hell you're doing. You're just trying to do what you can." Malcolm crouched down. "In my opinion, it's ones who think they know what they're doing who don't."

"What about Henry the Fifth?" Matthew said, his mouth twitching upward a second. Malcolm snorted and ran fingers through his kinky hair.

"Ah, him, he never existed anyway. Shakepeare was a nationalist anyway. 'Randa blabs about a fictional character, not actual history."

"Agincourt was history."

"You're off the subject."

"Dennis."

"Even HE doesn't think he knows what he's doing."

"Thanks much," Zinnert said dryly as he came up in Battloid. The three men exchanged exhausted smiles as patchy clouds swirled over the hunter's moon above.

"I've been talking to the other gangs on our assigned channel frequency. All of them seem to have gotten out with a few casualties and no deaths. We'll probably be able to roundezvous in a day or so at our spot."

"Any signs of pursuit?" Ulm asked.

"Not that they could see."

"Tell them to keep an eye out. There is a humanoid running the affair."

"Even he can't be omniscient."

"She."

"Wha?" Malcolm startled.

"She. During the fight I got a look inside the mecha. The suit seemed to be a female design."

"Wonderful," Dennis sighed. Sitting, he removed his helmet and began to rake his dishwater-brown hair into spikes, face blank with exhaustion. "I checked up on the--child."

"How is she?"

"She still hasn't awakened. She occasionally shifts, but it's like a light coma. Those Flower spores... No idea what they may have done to her."

"It's obvious," Fred's voice said bitterly, out some distance. "Easily replenished resources, just take another town, enslave it. Why bother with masks? If they're going to go crazy from breathing spores, just get fresh ones."

"Point taken," Zinnert noted, sighing. "Keep your mind on watch, Fred." It had taken a hard smack on the helmet for Malcolm to break Bohms out of his suicidal berserker frenzy at the farm.

"What about Gwen and Amanda?"

"Both--" Dennis sighed. "We're going to have to put them on standby, Ulm. Not just the physical, but..."

"Don't tell me I should have known."

"I'm not. What they saw--it would have done it for me." Dennis sighed. "I'm--sorry. This isn't the kind of war I was trained for."

"Dennis?" Malcolm said mildly.

"Yes, Malcolm?"

"Shut up and leave the 20/20 hindsight for when you got the mind for it."

"Yeah. That point taken."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Oryo'i stood and watched the Malar begin to clean up the wreckage of the humans' strike. Other than a few craters, the destroyed watchtower, the downed energy fence, the gaping hole in the storage building, and a few missing canisters, there was little damage. She offered the Terrans a grudging piece of admiration for their precision.

She paced back and forth, outside her mecha, as it was waiting for repairs to the dented and cracked armor where the missiles had connected. Fortunately for her, none of them had been direct hits, but it had been just enough to keep her from pursuing the humans after they took off from the depot with their unarmored comrades.

She began to think, carefully, about what Shkud's reaction would be once he heard of the affair.

_Hmm, what do you remember about piloting a Gurab, Oryo'i?_ The fear that should have been there was replaced by a cool, detached consideration.

For nearly nine lunar cycles now, since the fiasco near the river, nothing she had done had pleased him. In fact, it had reduced her to her current inglorious status. The humans had hardly been accomodating themselves, but at least she knew the reason for that. But to have received nothing but more and more contempt for months, from her own kind...

What had been a tatically aggressive and intelligent if quick-tempered leader a few dozen lunar cycles ago was now a vicious, spiteful being who struck if there was any hindrance and often even without, just to show he could do it to his subordinates. A move she had made nine cycles ago that he once would have thought innovative if flawed had instead given him an opening to target her over and over.

No wonder the other Solugi she had met under his command had looked at her with wide, shifting eyes when she had brought the subject up.

Pacing, pacing, she watched as under the direction of the Malar, the Gamir began to dismantle the human holding pen. Debating how to present it, Oryo'i took off her helmet in the chilly breeze, her hair whipping like corporate fog.

Suddenly, she stiffened, her breathing beginning to race. Her eyes began to dart, considering.

Not all that many canisters had been pilfered. It would be below the average for a monthly shipment, but she could blame the Flowers' production on that. The physical damage to the establishment could be repaired in a couple of days.

The lower Invid out here were permanently assigned, with little turnover and not much communication with the outside. If not asked directly about any situations, they were unlikely to make the affair known, being the literal-minded creatures they were. Even those inside the Malar preferred to give the accepted answer rather than present a new question. And Shkud heard only what he wanted to hear.

And communication was invariably with the highest-ranking member of any given hive.

And the humans? Interesting, most interesting. Something about the way they attacked... And had not Shkud said once, that she would have her opportunity finding out why they had done what they had done? Why not take him up on his word? After all, it had gone far beyond adversary to adversary now. It was most personal on her part.

She continued to think, and then looked up.

The amber-orange eyes narrowed, and a secret, chilling smile curved her lips.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Miranda dealt in a card, her face blank with concentration, chin resting on her hand. The guerrilla next down looked at it.

"Nasty," he commented admiringly.

"You betcha. Pay up." With grumbles, the rest around the table watched as she smugly raked in her loot and began to eat it. A stereo was softly playing Miles Davis in the background.

"Those were my carrots," whined someone.

"Sure as hell hope they weren't your lunch, kiddo. You need your vitamin A."

"What he needs is a brain transplant." A loud groan met the wisecrack. The five people around the coffee table began to deal another hand as the garage's space heater gave grudging warmth against the cold.

"Any word from comm on the others?"

"Not a peep. It's been five days now."

Miranda sighed. "Doesn't mean anything. Back at Quincy, we made the most incredible routes back to base to make sure the bugs didn't find us. Not that it helped." The casual cheer of her tone was belied by the furrow wrinkling her brow.

"I tried to grow veggies in those old tree planters," the carrotless one said. "The cats pissed on them."

"Grooosss. Remind me not to eat the radishes." a teenager said in a disgusted tone.

Miranda was in midchew, blinking.

"No, those weren't in there." She resumed munching, and shuffled her cards.

The blat of the klaxon sent two under the table, severed Miranda's carrot, and threw the other three spinning upright. Even as Miranda made the first couple of steps up the stairs, the PA came on.

"This is Paul Yau up at comm. This is not an attack, repeat, not an attack. The rest are enroute home, ETA one hour. They have wounded. All medic and mechanical personnel report in the staging area in ten minutes. Message repeats; this is not an attack warning, expedition on the way home in an hour, with casualties, medic and mechanical personnel report in staging. Connection closed."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"That's my carrot."

"It is? Sorry." Kevin finished masticating the vegetable and swallowed, shivering slightly in the cold at the entrance.

"You got it off the card table, didn't you?" Miranda asked with a preoccupied look on her face, peering in the distance. He nodded. "You have got this knack for eating my food."

"Can't deny it, I try hard to." he said abstractly. "Malcolm's alright. He's the one that sent the okay."

"Didn't say any on the others." She licked her lips. "I know my brother, and although he did a great job of hiding it, something in his voice..." She trailed off ominously. The carrot abruptly lost its taste for Kevin.

"They better not have." he said. "I'll be pissed."

"Ditto."

Inside, there were clatters, bangs, orders and curses as the others finished up triage preparations and fixing up the repair bay. The two figures outside waited in the gray chill and squinted their eyes, looking.

Soon, a trail of thin dust rose through the air. The two tensed, then shouted back to the others.

The noise increased, until a ragged band began to make their convoluted way up towards Base One. Miranda subvocalized as she counted heads, then drew in a harsh breath.

"There's--"

"Gods. Don't tell me."

In a couple of minutes, Lieutenant Ulm dismounted in front of them. Both took a look at him and stared.

"O'Shea, Altman. We're back."

"Where's the twelve back there?" Miranda asked flatly.

Ulm told her.

"I see." The tone was obvious that she didn't and didn't want to.

"Move in," Ulm told the rest. There was the hum of engines as they complied.

They followed inside.

"Matt--" Miranda licked her lips. "What happened?"

The lieutenant began to tell her in a drained, near-monotone as Kevin listened, a clamp tightening around his ribcage. Then, Ulm reached a certain part--

"Jesus God Allah Buddha!" Kevin whispered, his voice cracking. The bloodshot hazel eyes two inches below his fastened on his face in unspoken communication, and Ulm nodded. Kevin lowered his face to his knuckles.

"I think I'm going to be sick now," he said conversationally.

Miranda merely shook her head bleakly, her cornrow beads clacking together.

"I guess it was only a matter of time before we pissed one of them off."

"Running a farm you mean?" Ulm answered. "Yes. At least that's what I keep

telling myself."

"We--well, I suppose sneakiness doesn't work one time out of a hundred. We were just damned lucky out of the other 99 that it wasn't the transmutes we went up against. What one was doing at--" she trailed off. "You were lucky. Real lucky." Ulm nodded.

"I was six inches away from being number eleven. I know all about it."

"Where's that girl you picked up?"

"Over in the triage area, most likely." Matt turned and made a noise. "Where'd he go off to?"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"You," the short Hispanic medic told Fred, "are gonna have to stop playing with linebackers."

Bohms snorted, his lank blond hair hanging in his eyes as he examined the medic examine in turn a superficial burn on Bohm's muscular arm. The heat of a plasma blast had conducted itself to the affected area via the CVR armor, undersuit nonwithstanding. "Tell the linebackers that, Valdez."

Valdez sighed, knowing well though what he knew of the core member and of the situation his advice would not be taken. "Good thing it's not more than skin-agh!" He ducked as someone leaped over his head and ended up yanking on Bohms' arm doing so, forcing a curse of pain out.

The figure, clad in thick gray-and-white REF cold-weather uniform, loped through the rest of the injured being treated, dodging occasionally. Valdez noted the dark hair and shrugged before going back to the still-quivering Bohms.

Sherry was gently unloading the small malnourished figure from her Battler. "Take care of her," she said to the medics, who nodded and began to hook up a bag of their limited IV supply. Wrapped up, the child looked only five, although the deprivations of hunger could mean she was considerably older. The tiny hollowed face was prematurely aged. In fact, she had to be at least seven. Sherry remembered belatedly that every child under six in Amanda's village had been systematically murdered.

Sherry swallowed back a lump in her throat, and looked up, getting a view of Kevin's knees.

"Hey," she said. He nodded, looking down at the little girl with an ill expression.

"Who is she?"

Sherry sighed and said "Mandy said her name was Florence Henderson. Her mother was Mandy's teacher. They were..."

"I know," he said thickly. She squeezed his knee in understanding.

"Where's--"

"Mandy?" Sherry looked bleak.

"Where IS--" he began, panic cracking his voice.

"She's here," Sherry said. "But I don't think you want to see her, not right now. She and Gwen--"she shook her head. "Shit, Kev--" she said, looking up and finding nobody.

Kevin was already weaving through the crowds, his eyes on a familliar yellow head. The returnees slid past him as he zeroed in.

He grasped her shoulder. "Mandy, I--"

She looked up and he bit back a curse.

Kevin had no true conception of the human Hell, but looking into the blasted green eyes gave him his first real taste of it.

As his visual image began to register, she began to shake.

_Their hand is upon you, Amanda,_ the voice of her dead history teacher screeched in her mind. _Before they crush you, run..._

"It's not me, Mandy," he whispered in desperation. "Whatever you saw, _that's not me!_" She stared at him, blinking and trembling like a leaf.

With an agonized decision, he took her in his arms, trying to avoid the red burns on her face. She froze, not even breathing, and then her shudders redoubled. It was seconds before he realized she was sobbing dryly.

Unnoticed by either, Gwendolyn Rutherford stared at them as antidepressants and endorphins were injected into her system, a wild, hard light growing in her amber eyes.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Fred, bandages stiffening his right arm, looked down at the small face in the dark room and absently stroked her cheek. The expression in his dark gray eyes was far gentler than most of the others would have normally seen.

"That poor little tyke," he murmured. Miranda looked down as well, having finished her periodic ministrations to the small body on the bed.

The child, although she would swallow and take water by reflex, had not awakened in the week since she had been taken from the pen in which her mother had died. She remained still, locked in whatever hallucinations the Invid Flower of Life had given her. The only changes had been the slight lessening of the deadly sunkenness of her face and slight movements and complaints on the jolting ride home.

"The only thing we can do is wait for her to come out," she said, pity crossing her tired features. "It's what usually happens in any case."

"After god knows how long breathing that?" Fred stated flatly. "Even if she does, what will she be like? Gwen told me what her mother..." He trailed off.

Miranda's mouth tightened. "I'm not about to give up."

Fred nodded. "Me neither."

Miranda sat down, gazing at the bed in the private infirmirary. "Frankly I'm surprised you... It doesn't seem like..."

Bohms stiffened. "You don't know the slightest thing about what I'm like."

Miranda sighed. "Sorry. Been up twenty hours now. I lost my courtesy about eleven tonight." Fred shrugged it off.

There was a quiet sigh from the little girl. Miranda looked over.

"Well, at least it's not as though she's in a classic vegetative state." She took a book out and began to ruffle through the pages. "Well, I don't think she'll mind..."

"Hmm?"

Miranda shrugged and with a voice hoarsened by fatigue began:

_"T'was brillig and the slithy toves/ Did gyre and gimble in the wabe..."_

Fred listened in to the Carroll poem with no comment. About the time Miranda got to the good part, he looked over and jumped, stopping her mid-recital. He stared.

It was dim in the room but bright enough to watch the eyelids flutter. After a minute or so, they slipped wide, revealing eyes the color of morning glories. They blinked, trying to focus.

"Hello?" Fred said quietly.

The child stared at him, her eyes wide. At last a whispery voice came out.

"You're not mommy." Fred shook his head. "You're people, not the monsters," Fred startled, then bit out,

"No, I'm NOT the monsters. You're safe. You're with good people. Florence."

Miranda had dropped her book and was bending over the girl. "Are you seeing anything strange?"

The child was confused. Finally, she said softly, "Where's the nice lady?"

"'Nice lady?'"

"There was a lady where I was. A really pretty lady." She drifted off into memory. "She had green eyes and long sparkly shiny hair." At last, tears welled up in her eyes. "She told me lots of things and hugged me. She was nice, not like the--bad place. " She trailed off. "I thought she was an angel, like in Christmas, but she didn't have wings. Where's mommy?"

The two adults stared at each other, lost.

_That's one heck of a hallucination,_ Miranda thought to herself.

Fred looked down, but the effort of keeping awake had been too much for her. Quietly, he sidled out of the room.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Kevin sat on the upper level, a view of the parking lot spread before him throught the windows, and clasped his hands between his knees.

"Run this past me again, Matt." he asked.

Matt let out a breath. "On the way back, I managed to piece together from Amanda and Gwen what Henderson said before she died."

"Which I'm hoping were the dying rantings of a spore-crazed victim."

Matt shook his head. "Insane, yes. But it makes a weird sort of sense, Kev. The effect of spores on the human mind...well, it's not out of the question."

"Wouldn't know. I seem to be immune."

"Well, it does seem that the spores seem to activate...strange portions of the human brain. Latent PK, god knows what."

"The "colors"? Are you meaning that breathing spores that long--showed some sort of...aura...around-- You Know--to her?"

"Could be."

"Why Amanda?"

Matt stared at him. Kevin swallowed.

"That's crazy, Matthew. That's absolutely nuts. Do you mean...my contact with her, and you, left a weird psychic mark?? If that was the case, the others would have dug me out years ago from seeing you."

"Maybe, Kev. 'Some of the colors', she other Invid don't seem to notice it, maybe it's a spore addict's vision only."

"You know Matt, if I wasn' t considering going up the wall just now I'd kick you for that."

"Right. 'The pale woman,' she said. 'Her hair like snow...' Who do you think that is?"

Kevin snorted through his hands. "Obvious, isn't it, Matt? The fair damsel you tussled with and who took out almost a quarter of Ulm's Elms. By elimination."

"Ahem. Anybody you might--ah, know?"

Kevin grunted. "Gods, I don't know. You saw Sera. I'm screaming normalcy in eye and hair color by comparison. With all the transmutation the Regis was doing before and probably after the Ascension, there's probably any number of white-haired Solugi females around." He stopped speaking, a frightened look rising in his eyes. "Oh shit. What was her color scheme?"

"On the Battloid? Very dark gray with an orangey red."

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit."

"I take it you know her?" Ul said quietly.

Kevin swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm afraid I do."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Somewhere else in the mall, one of its large population of feral cats crouched, green eyes intent on a piece of movement off in the shadows of an abandoned storefront. Stealthily, it moved another inch, its tabby tail twitching ever so slightly. The smell of the quarry was odd, but tempting, and the shape had mouse written all over the hunter's predator perceptions.

_Food! _ the cat thought.

The scuffling little movements grew nearer. The twitches stopped, and the cat crouched, salt-and-pepper vibrassae trembling.

The movements came withing three feet of the animal.

The cat sprang.

In the next second, it was yowling as claws came down on nothing, and traction on the slick surface sent it caroming into the entranceway. Stunned, it lay there for a second.

Eventually, it shook its head, nothing but its pride abused. Giving a quick glance to make certain nobody or nothing had been watching, it began to hurriedly wash its head.

Behind it, there was little yelps as what looked like a ball of white lint trotted happily further into the base interior.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Dandelions: Chapter 7 of 9**

Personal Diary of Kevin O' Shea

**December 4, 2045**

Well, they brought in that Alpha in today. I was one of the fortunate ones who saw it come in, down near Base Two. Dennis brought it in and set in on that old university quadrant as nicely as you please, just like a real bird. Quite a trick, considering he was dealing with several meters of gray-and-black death and hadn't done it for years. Shame he never was able to repair that Alpha of his that got banged up near Refles Point--it would have been a help. Bit of irony, that...

The Protoculture's been stored in places all over, so the enemy can't get a fix on it. I suppose I should say Invid, but then what does that make me? If anyone reads this and finds out, I'll probably be dead by then anyway, so my race is a moot point. Besides, I'm so sick of hiding it... And considering who I know we're up against now--hopefully a human deity or two is willing to intercede. Anyway, back to what's going on.

Matt listened. I'm glad being what I am is of some help, because he now has the place on continual yellow status. People are whining and bitching about it, but tough titty, folks. Shame I can't tell them the reason for it. The raid on the farm wasn't as inconsequential as we thought. Unfortunately, there's been no nearby attacks to keep them on their toes. Doesn't mean anything.

She--or maybe they--is biding her time. I know it. What event's going to trigger her move? This is like chess, but we don't have the luxury of looking down on the board and seing the picture. We're the players and the pieces at the same time. What will we do that can trigger victory--or disaster? The consolation is that they're not any better off in perspective. At least not by much. But they--well, I think they have us well in check.

Let's face it, the loyalists have the upper hand.

I daren't go near the child. I don't know if the spores' effects have worn off, but what if by accident she sees--and starts screaming? The only thing I dread more than dying is seeing the people I've worked with causing it. Ironic, isn't it? So I stay well away. Mandy sees her fairly often, and she hasn't made any comment about Florrie seeing any more weird auras around her, but I'm just too scared to get near, and much, much too guilty. And I would like a lot to just do the things human adults do for children, like playing with them, guiding them, so forth. Funny old thing, being Solugi.

Something's been in the food. Malcolm's gone ballistic over it. It can't be a rat, because of the population of cats around--and it hasn't been crapped in. Just little nibbles. Critter's an awfully dainty eater, for vermin. Good thing not too much food has been lost.

Mandy's gotten better. I can't imagine what happened to her at the farm, but I can try and guess, and if not understand, try and be capable of understanding. At least she no longer gets nightmares--again--but there's a perpertually scared look in her eyes. But at least--I pray--it's not directed at me. It's taken months, but I've finally gotten to her that whatever is this monstrosity of promise and justice is going on, I find it as abhorrent as she does, and suffer the guilt from it to boot. Her opinion is so important to me. And growing increasingly important, as though the opinion of the entire human race regarding me was hers. I just don't know. With Amanda, I head into so much murky water emotionally I just have to stop, which I'm doing.

I have to ask myself for the hundreth time where the Regis figures into this. She's not here in body...I, and every other Solugi, loyalist and rogue, would have felt Her presence if She had been. I suppose that's how She rationalizes the blatant reneging on Her word. But yet there's direction. Belmont pointed that out months ago when he was here, which confirmed Matt's and my suspicions on the pattern of the occupations. But who's running it? The Solugi? The Malorosm? That's another thing I don't know (ye God that pisses the hell out of me!). Perhaps the Regis stratified things so there's a few of them running and directing the occupation and the rest helping. It would explain the hideously powerful Gosu/Gamun/Battloids that have shown up here and there, it's probably being piloted by the occupation heads. The very highest command below Her, just as Lihra, Kharoth, Corg and Sera were in the latter stages of the last occupation?

Or maybe--no, no, that's stupid. Forget that.

Dammit. Here I was going to actually say something intelligent about the day and I've wandered off into the hinterlands of speculation again. Well, I'm going to have to stop anyway. I'm so tired I'm about ready to drop the pen. Digging trenches for security wiring took the tar out of me. So tomorrow--

_--**Kevin O'Shea** , First Scout of Ulm's Elm_s

PS: Matt, you can still have my Valk model.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Well, we're going to fly our baby over to that arena shell down south," Dennis confirmed thoughtfully. "It'll make a terrific VTOL hangar bay." He walked around in the dead grass thoughtfully, hood up agains the dry, frigid air, circumnavigating the meters-long bulk of mecha perched in gerwalk on the open, weed-choked quadrant.

The Shadow Alpha was a matte gray-black, a slice of light carved out of the air into a looming, louring form with simultaneous palpable mass and the airy, killing beauty of a sword's edge. Shiroikiku and Gerald had done their work well--there was no obvious sign of the damage that naturally resulted from being half-buried in weeds and dirt for months on end.

Fortunately, the damage had been mostly structural; the power systems were to Sherry's gratitude intact, for reasons she had made known to Dennis earlier. "I've never seen parts to an Alpha quite like these before. Or that worked quite like these, and I had the privledge to see the guts of the prototype Shadows before Reflex. This had to be a new one that the Icarus dumped."

"Interesting. I only piloted the normal types."

"Trust me Lieutenant, this mutha ain't anywhere near normal. I've never seen anything like these systems before. My guess this sucker is a prototype of some sort, because the energy efficiency and the operating systems are so damned advanced it ain't funny. We're not certain just where to begin, even. My bet is that we'd better be Goddamned glad it's almost intact, because an easy bet will get you that there aren't a lot of spare parts in the solar system that'll fit this thing."

"So what does the system difference mean?"

"It's powerful as shit," Sherry said flatly.

Dennis shuddered.

"And we can't really use the fucker much because if it gets hit in an important spot, Lieutenant, it won't be any good to use because of that very fact. I request this is our last-ditch special."

After flying it, Dennis had to silently agree. The thing was a pilot's wet dream when in the cockpit. It also, unfortunately, a resistance leader's potential worst nightmare when in the field.

Matt rubbed his whiskers, hazel eyes running over the curves and angles of the VAF-8. "I can't think of a better place myself, Dennis. At least it'll be out of sight from Invid there. My only worry is the structural damage from that monster hole in the roof. It'll let the thing in and out, but it also might collapse the entire thing on top."

"Them're the breaks. Perhaps there's a way to reinforce it?" Zinnert mused and then regretfully shook his head. "No. No engineers among us, and who'd have the materials anyway? The place is just too enormous." He sighed heavily.

"No alternative, though," Ulm said disgustedly, walking over and running a gloved hand over the sleek metal of the Alpha's leg. "God, but I don't want to risk it. There's not near enough Shadows on Earth, and anything like this..." He shook his head. "Who'd ever heard of one with two seats and that kind of equipment?"

"Recon was Corporal Doi's guess."

"I'd say so." Ulm stepped back. "She is a sexy little thing, though?"

"Thought 'shes' weren't your interest." Zinnert drawled. Ulm blinked and mock-glared as he realized his second's joke.

"I meant the _Alpha_, Dennis."

Dennis looked transparently innocent and fought with the smirk trying to yank a corner of his mouth.

"Dennis, being a smart-ass really isn't you. The First Scout, Doi, Wilson, and the rest are bad enough. If you start, I'm going to have to do drastic things."

" I take it that you'll stick with the arena, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah, whatever."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"I'm freezing," the gray bundle hunched next to one of the three stoves commented. Malcolm shugged and nonchalantly walked around her, directing the KP detail.

"So why're you griping to me?"

"You're the closest one. God, I could kill a cup of tea right now."

"Over there."

"That ain't tea, that's sludge. I'm not gonna befoul the vodka by pouring it into that."

"That's what you're gonna get until I can get some more leaves, Gwennie."

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry."

"No you ain't."

"Nope, I guess I'm not," Malcolm grinned, teeth white against his face.

The pallid, delicate face below scowled, the amber eyes narrowing under the shocking, none-too-clean blaze of hair.

"Jerk," she said shortly, then rose, the loose padded gray mottle of her uniform not concealing the rigidity of her figure. Malcolm looked after her, frowning. His expression remained pensive as he begain to wipe the batter-choked ranges clean.

He shook his head.

"Smart move, bud," he told himself ruefully.

Then again, anything he might have done could have set her off. The effects of the raid on her had not been positive. The changes in her personality had made her difficult to get along with.

_No,_ he amended. _Not changes. _ He had seen such effects--similar ones, at any rate--on his elder sister, the day she had finally arrived to join the Elms.

It had not been a welcome meeting, although he loved her. The fact she was there was proof that their mother had finally died from the cancer consuming her ovaries, and that Miranda was free from having to care for her.

The surface convivality had fallen, replaced by the despair that had been underneath ever since she had come home from out east, a tattered refugee from the wreckage of the Invid invasion, a student now forever denied her study. There had been nothing left for her then, except to fight, and most likely die.

No wonder she had taken to O'Shea and Pierson so well, he thought. They seem to have had no connections to civillian normalcy themselves.

In Gwen's case, the superficial insouciance had been torn away from her personality, showing the true nature underneath. Malcolm was certain he did not like it. Nihilism was not the word to describe it, nor was furtiveness. The nightmares were apparenly not half of the scars that had been left by her experiences. If being an Invid prisoner did that to one, Malcolm wanted to make certain he killed himself beforehand.

He sighed, eye flicking over to the entraceway through which she had exited, and continued cleaning up after breakfast.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Something in me_

_Dark and sticky_

_All this time is getting strong_

_The way I'm dealing_

_With this feeling_

_Can't go on like this too long_

**Peter Gabriel,** "Digging in the Dirt"

Gwen walked stiffly away, the tight, hot feeling gripping her ribcage refusing to release its hold. She knew her reaction had been totally irrational--hell, Malcolm was like that all the time, but the anger refused to let go.

Anger and despair. She wanted to strike out, and yet she did not care. What was the point? Her captivity all those years ago had taught her some lessons best left unlearned; that no such thing as justice existed, that the strongest survived and the weaker got the end of the shaft, that life was hell and death's oblivion the best reward.

Another drink, another man, because they expected it, wanted it, and another high-ranking lay, just to prove she could do it, just to prove if nothing else, she had that much control over what happened. And the next resistance group was always ready to have her shooting. She had conveniently excluded the fact from the Elms that the Louisville Sluggers had thrown her out because the CO's girlfriend had taken extreme exception to Gwendolyn's taking him elsewhere--she smiled bitterly--for "talks."

At least Kevin had had aesthetic appeal and seemed--shit--to be a nice guy. She most certainly would not have minded his interest. Even despite the covert signals from his middle-aged angler boyfriend were that Kevin wasn't inclined... She had seen enough indications in her time with the Elms that it was at least partly a lie on O'Shea's part. She had started again, hope giving her impeteus.

So why didn't he oblige? Damn him, damn him to hell, and that little blond slut he favored. He could at least give her the courtesy of proving that her blood-earned view of the world was still intact.

Her anger reaching a peak, she randomly kicked the next object that came up. Unfortunately, the metal bench had a catastrophic effect even through the heavy toe of her field boot.

Limping and cursing, she continued outside, the tone of her thoughts going from murky dark gray to something very nearly black.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"I just LOVE it when she kicks Han in the ass down that chute," Gerald said dreamily, his purple-higlighted brown hair hanging in his eyes. He was busy digesting his breakfast and had decided to watch a portion of his favorite movie trilogy. "Just makes me feel so much better."

"So you like dominant women, huh?" quipped a voice from a bundle of beanbags. Gerald took his attention from the TV screen long enough to give it a dirty look.

"Bite me."

"Nope."

"The good part's coming up."

Kevin's head poked up from where he was lying and began to study the screen.

After a while, he said thoughtfully. "You know, these trilogy things... You know Sherry's animes..."

"You mean the one with the guy that turns into the girl?"

"That and the chick that went around chasing this guy because she'd been imprisoned. You know. The chick with the electroshock hair and bad temper."

"Huh? What about--you forgot the one with the pervert and the girl with the horns."

"Yeah."

Gerald rolled it over in his food and fatigue-clouded mind. He was drowsy, and was not exactly at his most lucid. "You know...suppose he--the guy with all the fiancees..."

"Which guy? There's the one with all the female roomies from other planets. And then the other guy in the female dorm. And.... " Kevin trailed off. "The Japanese have hangups, don't they."

"Thassa one. The alien girlfriend's. Not the other guy. Sorry. Suppose there was like," his mind churned, "suppose he was the son of the first guy."

"You mean his grandpa's a panda?"

"Work with me, willya? And like, the chick with the horns, you know, was his kid. The second guy's. And that cursed water had something to do with it all. Big fuckin' comedy epic. Be great. Woudn't even have to worry about copyrights anymore. Just dub over the Japanese with our dialogue."

"'Drop your panties, Sir William?'" Kevin quoted.

"In yer dreams. Oh. We'd take fuckin' forever to get over with the last one, but the audience wouldn't care, cause we'd get em hooked. Make a lot of money, man..."

"Yeah," the scout mused.

Gerald blinked, his sanity reasserting itself. "Nah, he said gloomily. "It'd never work."

"O'Shea!" Ulm's voice shouted out in the hall. "Wherever you are, report."

Kevin muttered a curse and heaved himself upright from his semiliquified position in the beanbags. "Shit."

"Ooh," Gerald said sweetly. "He _wants _you, Kevvy-boy." The half-Zentraedi snickered as the scout gave Gerald his opinion with an extended middle finger as he left, then immediately returned his attention to the screen. The movie was reaching another good part.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Kevin resignedly followed Matt's retreating back to the conference room on the other side of the hall, in the storage room in the back of an old storefront. Pillages from elsewhere in Base One had made the place a bit cozy.

"What you want, Lieutenant?"

Ulm sighed and closed the door behind them. Kevin first thought the room was empty until he saw the figure drinking opaque tea, dirty boots up on the couch. She acknowledged with a nod while slurping the stuff.

"Insurance, Kev. Reason why Mandy's here is that she's the only one who you can tell without letting anything too untoward slip or any questions being raised."

"Run this by me again?"

Amanda paused in slurping. "I dunno. Apparently because I'm the only other who knows you're--what you are." She still not say the word. "So you can tell me whatever you need to tell me in case one of you buys it."

"Or namely, Kev, why you know what you know about the charming lady we met at the farm a couple weeks ago."

The Solugi started. "Oh, that. Why didn't you say so in the first place, Matt?"

"Well, uh---" Mandy looked on, her green eyes beginning to twinkle. "Jeez."

Ulm scratched his head. "I think--"

"I think six and a half years of this damn charade is beginning to tell on us," Kevin sighed. "Yeah, this is important. Amanda, it's not just human versus Invid anymore. It's gotten a bit personal. I know the Invid you went up against at that farm.

"Her name's Oryo'i." The glottal stop was slight. "Her ID colors are dark gray, vemillion, and carmine, not that that means much to anyone except a fellow Solugi Invid or a human, and she's what roughly translates in human terms as an upper-ranking princess or royaltly, but not high-high royalty like Sera was for instance. She was transmuted to the human form a month or so before I was, or a month before Reflex Point. She's never been very flashy. She was more a supporting cast type in the last war, and the way things look she's playing the same part in this one. She's very good at the arts of war, but not spectacular. Nearly enough to do for Matt though." Kevin shivered. "Nonetheless, knowing she's in our area scares the crap out of me."

"If--why?" Amanda's eyes were narrowed, all the humor gone out.

Kevin stared at her solemnly. "Because, Mandy, what people fail to see--human or Invid--is that it's not the ones who make the most noise who are the most dangerous. The really dangerous ones are the ones you overlook. Don't look at the plasma cannon, watch out for the slug in the back, sort of thing."

"So you're trying to say is that even though she's not among the Invid running the operation, she's still bad news?"

Kevin plopped down on the couch next to her as Matt looked on. "Oh yes. And she's extremely intelligent as well. It's just that nobody notices. I... before..." He trailed off, not willing to admit there was a before, "I--managed to notice. She's too bright to admit or demonstrate being so, because she knows it'll target her by the humans. And she's aware of the fact that a good plan of occupation is far more effective in the long run than simply going out and wiping out a few dozen enemy the way most Invid like to do. She's a creative thinker, and also completely loyal to the Invid cause. The two traits together are quite rare."

"Why is that?"

He smiled at her sadly, and then she understood.

"Why else do you think I'm talking to you now, instead of being on that side?" Amanda swallowed, recognizing the enormity of the question. "And back on the subject of Oryo'i, now that we've pissed her off, with that combination of traits--I'll bet you my lunch she'll start thinking of some very interesting ways to find out and deal with us. And the worst part, she'll go about it quietly and thoroughly until it's too late."

Matt said, "Amanda, you need to know about this. If Kev or I or both of us get killed, you'll be the only one who knows how dangerous our situation is with this person in the area. Since if Kevin--" he trailed off, "the entire point of the charade'll be moot, so you can then tell the others."

Amanda looked off to the other side of the wall. "If you say so."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The greatest single defining characteristic of the land surrounding the bases in the ruins of the blasted city in the old Protected Zone was: flat.

Except for trees, buildings, the crater lake, and a few artificial rises created by the highway contractors of the last century, the area had about as much distinguishing topography as did a pancake. It was not the sort of land layout that facilitiated hiding. It had been a major worry for the Elms ever since they had arrived all those months ago.

It was also a source of great frustration for the enemy.

The sole pillar of alloy flicked light as it took a hesitating step to the shadow of another building, then it paused again, as lifeless as the building itself. In the shade and in the weak light of the half-hearted December morning, the body disappeared, while accents stood out like flame.

After several minutes of making certain there was no observation, the sensor array between the shoulders pivoted, searching.

Where was the last movement it had seen?

_I am getting close now..._ she thought. The fingers/ claws of the mecha flexed in anticipation and nervousness. She constantly kept an eye on her instruments. This cursed lack of any real cover meant that on the first sign of approaching enemy mecha she would have to hide before their sensors picked her up. If they should notice her around.... The idea of half a lunar cycle's dilligent night-and-day searching undone, perhaps permanently, was unthinkable. And this close...

Her opredti sensors had been notifying her of the presence of fuel cells in several scattered sites. Now she had to find which of them hid the resistance.

_I want to know. I **have** to know..._

Bringing a convoy of underlings out here would have only dramatically increased chances of being seen, so only she stalked in the shadows, power at the barest minimum to ensure movement and function of instruments. After all, a trahl got into areas that the larger and stronger could not go. It was working so far.

So had the manipulation into letting her stay down south...a play on his ego here, some reverse psychology there, and a fine glaze of surface submissivness over all. He never thought to read any further underneath.

He might have been quite startled if he had.

_I am going to find out if it's the last thing..._

Nothing but quiet around, with no indication save the omnipresent hum of the sensors as they noted and detected locations of opredti in the area. There was one less than five hundred yards away. She ignored it. That wasn't her objective at any rate.

She forced the sensors to focus further out, reading other deposits. It would figure that at one of the largest the human gadflies would be hiding.

_Hrmm, wait..._ She drew nearly all of her available power to the sensor--there, on the very limits of her perception to the north, there was something...

_What? _ She started, surprise jerking away her concentration. She rerouted power to pure visuals, swiftly retreating into the shadows of the naked trees and the building they shadowed. There was movement, large movement. A flick between distant buildings, then another. She finally focused in far enough--no protoculure radiation to help, but it did not matter much. They were getting closer.

It was the first indication of human activity she had seen in the day or so since she had flown in low from the east.

At last she could make it out clearly, and her breathing picked up.

Two humans on Terran vehicles/ mecha moving south in roughly her direction, hooded against the deepening chill of the year, but with streamers of loose hair occasionally flying out. Bleeping, the Gamun's sensors moved in.

She blinked incredulously, then a growl rose in her throat.

Oh, she felt she knew them quite well. The yellow and fiery red hair was not easily forgotten, considering they'd had the audacity to thwart her of her execution of their nonetheless pointlessly heroic companion that while ago.

The sensor eye inperceptibly pivoted, tracking the trail they made.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Gotta be there by 1030 hours," Mandy noted, her eyes flicking to her watch. Gwendolyn did not acknowledge the comment even with a shrug. "Do you suppose their ammo inventory is OK?"

Gwen still refused to answer. Biting her lip, Amanda turned back to the road, releasing her gnaw on her lower lip when a jolt almost made her bite through it.

Bravely continuing, Amanda noted, "I certainly hope so. I 'spect Terre Haute'll get pissy at us with us begging stuff off them when they need it."

When this still received no response, Amanda swallowed and sighed, turning with her companion onto the road that led southward to Base Two, the rather smaller, more cramped, and less well-appointed of the encampments the Elms had set up. She was privately wondering about the wisdom of Dennis's pairing her with the redhead in order to go down and help take inventory on Base Two's millitary hardware.

Kevin had tiredly noted to her in the past couple of days Gwen had redoubled her advances after several months of inactivity. However, he had noted that there was something in them that turned him off, even as the prior ones had done terrible things to his composure. The vindictiveness he had noted in them was enough to prompt Amanda to walk in whenever Gwen looked as though she were making another play. This was probably the reason why Mandy was being given the silent treatment.

("I suppose if nothing else this proves I...uh am...inclined." he had said, as embarrassed as he had ever been. This statement had caused Amanda to start noodling over things that she eventually had to leave off because the implications were too unnerving.)

Gwen suddenly swerved, throwing Mandy off her rhythm. "Hey watch it!"

Gwen, her lip curled, turned back a look on her that even through the goggles made Amanda's stomach turn. She had not seen so much venom in a single expression before.

"What'd I do?" Amanda said to herself, forgetting the tactical net was still open.

She finally had a response: a contemptuous snort.

Amanda tightened her mouth and continued onward.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. This was nothing new; she had been paranoid for over a year now, and especially in the past few weeks. But little things were bothering her, particularly with Gwendolyn's obstinacy. Of course, with her nerves rubbed as raw as they were, anything was setting her off. She hoped that once they got to Base Two she'd be able to get away from Gwen for at least a while.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Don't talk back_

_just drive the car_

_Shut your mouth_

_I know what you are_

_Don't say nothing_

_keep your hands on the wheel_

_Don't turn around_

_this is for real_

**--Peter Gabriel,** "Digging in the Dirt"

_"What'd you do', you little tramp?_ Gwen seethed. _What'd you think you did? Probably bonking His Holiness' buddy on the sly, the rottin' liar. What's wrong with me? Sure didn't stop the Sluggers' CO from eating his cake, now did it?_

Red around the edges of her vision, Rutherford ruthlessly accelerated, ignoring potential potholes, worked up into such an emotional frenzy that for the first few seconds she didn't notice the tell tale hum and whoosh coming from up ahead.

Then she saw.

And smiled.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda was confused enough that for a second she did not comprehend when the

Cyclone up ahead suddenly made a screaming ninety degree turn and went down an entirely different street.

"What? Gwen, what's--" There was no response over the tac net. Dammit, she had let her attention slip. She began to survey the surrounding area, but it was not until she saw the shadow darkening the ground that she looked up.

For a frozen instant, she was caught, moth in a flame. Then she twisted the gas and howled down the highway with both engine and voice, even as the clamping, arm-long alloy digits closed on the spot where she had been.

"GWEN!" she screamed, as the Invid mecha flipped over in midair and roared after her. If Rutherford could squeeze off a shot, it might be enough to distract the Assault Battloid overhead long enough so that Amanda could execute mode transition. It was too close, getting closer, and it took far too long to shift in close quarters. She would be dead before the first two seconds. In the icy prelude to true terror, she managed to accelerate to full speed, switching on the protoculture engines, but the Invid battloid's jets laughed at it.

"Gwen, _help me_, damn you!"

No help came.

Desperately, Amanda executed a tight 180, knee shrieking across cracked pavement, and for a moment disoriented the alien.

Its pilot watched detachedly at the desperately speeding human. _Why doesn't her companion aid her? Is it some sort of ruse? _A disquieting thought crept into her mind._ Perhaps their companions may be waiting. _(There had been some horror stories circulated on how the humans sometimes interrogated Solugi captives.)

Her brow furrowed. _Well, if that's the case..._

Amanda crouched over the bike. One last possible chance...if she could only switch modes, then things might be a bit more equal. A gamble but the only one she had left... Pray to God if he were watching that she had time to spare after throwing the Invid off.

She flipped the mode transition switch.

The bike rocketed up, the Forager's front farings splitting and rising, as she herself rose. For a panicky second she thought she might make it.

But then there was yet another jerk, and she kept rising. She did not need to see the vermillion fingers of the Assault Battloid lapped full around her waist to know, and she screamed once; a shrill ulutation of surprise, terror, and despair.

The thrusters boomed on with bone-shattering force, squeezing the breath out of her. Then the G-forces slapped into her, and into merciful blackness.

The gray and orange Invid mecha rose, and began to curl away to the northeast. It was gone to sight in minutes.

Below, safely sheltered in a building shell, a mounted figure on a Cyclone watched it depart.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

It continued to stare for some minutes, stock still, seemingly lost in some bemusement. Then, unaffected, it began to start up its engines again.

Or seemingly unaffected.

As the fingers reached the ignition, they suddenly began to tremble. Abruptly, the tremble convulsed into convulsive shudders, as though consumed with a raging fever. Bonelessly, the figure slumped from the mecha, ignoring how it crashed only a couple inches from her leg.

The hands suddenly ripped off the helmet, releasing a cascade of copper hair. Shaking, she stared at the ground. Suddenly, the figure groaned, and then began to retch repeatedly.

When there was nothing left to bring up, the hands reached up and half-heartedly wiped the mouth. Then she looked up, revealing the gray countenance of a woman, sobbing, all malice gone, curdled with sickness and self-loathing.

"God, God, what have I done?" Gwendolyn Rutherford wept.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Miranda sat on a overstuffed couch, toying with a braid and watching Florence Henderson vigorously color a yellowing book with a box of crayons at her feet. The little girl's technique was interesting, her main modus operandi attacking the pages with layer after layer of bright yellow with little discretion for where the lines actually were.

The crayon broke and Florence pouted, before grabbing a purple stick and repeating the process in another section of the page. Miranda smiled. Florrie certainly had recovered quite well from her imprisonment, only occasionally--Miranda's coffee-colored eyes clouded--waking up in the night crying for her mother.

Of course, there were still the times the child stared off into empty space...

"What're you drawing, sweetie?"

"A big FLOWER!" Florence shouted enthusiastically, happily ignoring that whatever the page contained--in this case a horse in a field--it was hardly flowerlike. "An' a sun. An ' grass."

"How about brown?" Miranda asked, indicating the drawing of the horse with a toe.

Florence gave her an indignant look. "Flowers aren't brown."

Miranda was about to convince her that maybe horse-shaped flowers were when suddenly Florence gasped and went white, her sky-blue eyes wide under her cropped brown ringlets. Miranda propelled herself onto the floor--the child was having another of her fits.

"Florrie? Florrie, hon, wake up!"

For another minute, the girl stared, oblivious, then huge tears formed in her eyes.

"Florrie, what is it!"

Trembling with sobs, the child said. "I'm scared! Something real bad happened, 'Randa." The sluices opened and she began to cry for real, incoherent with whatever was possessing her.

Miranda held her close, her dark eyes wide with confusion, doubt, and fear.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Nothing new, right?" Matt asked, sitting uncomfortably on the back of the comm room couch and looking over at the recruit manning it. She shook her head.

"No sir. Not a peep. It's been like this all day." She did not go into the fact the nearby groups had not been active ever since the return from the protoculture raid. Behind them, another Elm wandered through the doorway, a half-full glass of opaque tea in his hand. "The Riders checked in, and that's it. Nobody got wiped out or anything. Sir."

Matt shrugged and rose from his seat. "Well, if that's the case..."

"Alert all personnel!" Matt bolted upright. The radar array worker's voice brought the PA to life "A lone bogie has just been spotted in the second quadrant, moving away to the northeast. Believed Invid; turn all protoculture radiation off--repeat, turn all protoculture radiation off!"

"What?" Ulm said, not very intelligently. There was a sudden gasp from the comm worker, and she whirled back to the set, opening a channel.

The voice that screamed at them in sick terror was unmistakably Gwen's.

"Goddammit, Base One, are you readin' me? This is Rutherford down at Base Two! We were attacked by a Marauder--it got Pierson! Are you--"

There was a crash from behind him; the initial shock was so much it took a second for Ulm to turn and see the cause.

First Scout O'Shea was standing there, hand loosened, mouth open, azure eyes wide and blank with shock and beginning devastation. The remains of his glass was in shards on the floor and splattered all over his boots.

He had done precisely the same thing in late 2039: while he had been washing the dishes, the ham radio had suddenly crackled, _"There was a reported sighting of a Shock Trooper..."_

In a detached way, Matt was grateful that the glass had not cut Kevin's hands this time.

They stared at each other in the face of the tragedy, one unspoken phrase passing between them.

_She's made her move._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"...We can't just let her get tortured to death!" Shiroikiku angrily insisted, her face red with repressed emotion. "What kind of people would we be?" Frustrated, she brought both fists down on the table with a hollow boom, startling all the core leaders there. His own face tight, Malcolm rested his hands on her shoulders in comfort.

Matt stared at the table, his face white under his stubble. He did not raise his eyes. His voice sounded as though it were being dragged from him. "Corporal Doi--from a rational standpoint, she's--one person. The Elms is forty-nine people. Endangering them, just for her sake..."

"If she's--interrogated into telling where we are, Matt, we're in deep shit all the same," Gerald Wilson pointed out, folding his thick arms over his chest as he leaned on Frederick's chair. Bohms, white around the nostrils, did not seem to notice.

"So there!" Doi shouted, bolting upright and jabbing a finger, her cheeks a good match for her hair dye. "We're fucked if we do and fucked if we don't. Personally, I'd rather get wasted trying to save Amanda rather than let her die before we buy it."

Ulm's logic warred with his heart at every word. "But, you see, if we move ASAP, we can save lives..."

"If we move ASAP, we're allowing her to die the same way every other damn Elm has." Matt winced visibly. "I thought we were better than the Invid in that respect."

_God, Sherry,_ Matt thought, _don't make this harder than it is for me._

He tried not to look down the table at the slumped, green-jacketed figure between the Altman siblings, or at the greenish tint in the red-haired woman's face. Gwen still had not stopped shaking ever since her blazing journey from Base Two twenty minutes ago, when the emergency meeting had convened. They were still at a standstill.

Privately, Ulm was proud at their loyalty, when it was not killing him.

Dennis spoke up from his end of the table, his voice crisp and his eyes worried. "It's too dangerous. We can't afford to risk any more personnel getting killed. Do you have any idea how well-guarded any hive they took her to will be? They have to know we might try to get her out."

Ulm was thinking precisely the same thing, for different reasons. From what Kevin had told him of Oryo'i, it was likely she had taken Pierson as a bait for the rest. Had she simply wanted to get out quietly with no notice, it was certainly in her power to do so.

He was certain Kevin was wishing he had never given those hints and influenced Matthew's decision.

_I'm sorry, Kev. You don't know how sorry,_ as he watched the motionless scout.

And speaking of which, how had Gwen known precisely what direction the Invid was going with Amanda? That precison should have been going into her attempting to shoot the Invid mecha down.

Miranda and Fred seemed to be incapable of speaking; he from naked fury, she from an inner war as violent as his. Miranda, after all, was one of Amanda's oldest friends.

Zinnert sighed. "Let's put it to a vote. Aye means we send a party after, Nay means we spend our energy moving."

Seconding, Matt hoped privately for an illogical turn.

Stomach churning, Matt said, "Nay," turning his eyes from Kevin's look of betrayal..

"Nay," Zinnert said.

"Aye," Shiroikiku barked.

"Nay," Gerald said reluctantly. Spitting out his decision, Fred managed, "Aye."

Malcolm: "Nay." He dropped his eyes from Sherry's.

Gwen: "Aye." She stared straight ahead, reddened eyes fixed.

Kevin startled, his eyes lost. "Aye," he whispered.

Only Miranda was left to break the deadlock. Swallowing repeatedly, she looked around the table, in the back of her mind playing that unnerving coincidence with Florence.

Her voice barely audible: "Nay."

Kevin jerked, his eyes horrified. "Miranda--"

"Don't tell me!" she barked. Her composure broke, and tears trickled down her ashen cheeks. "I know, Kevin, I know."

"Why? Dammit, Miranda, why??"

"God, Kevin, I care about her as much as you do. But--but--God help me--they're right."

His voice a croak, Matt said. "Four aye, five nay. Tell the others to start moving procedures."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Maybe it would help if I went and killed myself now,_ Kevin thought abstractedly as the rest began to file out. He certainly felt dead already. As though they belonged to another creature, he watched his limp hands loosely interlocked down between his knees. _A walking corpse, that's what I am. A living lie living in order to fight another lie._

It was bad as it was, trembling with fear everytime he thought he had drawn his own blood in public, compounded by the crushing weight of six years of facade. But now...he could not conceive of life without...

"O'Shea, I'm sorry." The second commander's shadow eclipsed the flourescent lights. "I know you were her friend."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better, Dennis?" Kevin asked in a monotone. "Go away, that might help. I'm half-inclined to give it a shot anyway."

"Kevin, there's no logical way we can get inside an Invid hive, get her, and get out alive without dragging the hive's forces after us. We would endanger the entire group for the sake of one person. We don't even know which hive she was taken to."

"Make a guess," Kevin snapped, some expression returning to the dead voice. "There was a process of elimination the last I knew."

Zinnert ignored his obvious lead into making Dennis state that the nearest one in that direction was a satellite hive near the major one at the old city of Lafayette. It was a fifty-fifty guess where Amanda was being held--if she were still alive, that was.

"Look, O'Shea, she was a soldier, as are you, as am I--"

"You speak like she were already dead, " Kevin said thickly. Dennis did not answer save for the smallest of flinches when the scout met his eyes, but the phrase was clear: she may as well be dead.

Dennis continued again. "Kevin--" The scout's bleak eyes blinked when the CO used his first name, "she knew the risks when she signed on."

Kevin managed to pull himself out of the nauseating swirl of memories that came up with that statement, with remembering it was his own covert intervention and training for Mandy that allowed her to join, allowed her to be in this situation. Through the crushing guilt, he snarled, life truly coming back, "Dennis, she was stripped of everything she had loved by the Invid, marched like an animal, and forced to run like prey. She didn't have a single goddamned alternative left. You have the nerve to call that a choice? My God! And you think she didn't know the risks of _not_ signing on?"

Dennis winced visibly this time. "Touche, Kevin. It's just that I've--you've been doing this so long--" He awkwardly trailed off, noticing no reaction.

"And you sure as hell have seemed to forget quite a few others haven't. It ain't the same war the Elms drew up the charter for, Dennis Zinnert, and I ought to know."

Dennis sighed. "Yes, you're right. It isn't the same war. It's gotten a lot uglier, a lot filthier, and a lot more desperate. We need every person we can get, Kevin. Trying to rescue her would end up killing more people. I can't tell you how sorry I am, but that's the cost of this war."

In retrospect, this statement was exactly the wrong thing for Dennis to say.

"**THE COST OF THIS WAR?!!**" Kevin roared in his face as the black and purple stars faded from Dennis' vision. The scout slammed the lieutenant's shoulders back onto the ground as he kneeled on Zinnert's chest. "The cost of this **war**?" In a distant way, Dennis noted Kevin's eyes were so dilated with the sudden surge that had knocked him down that only the thinnest of rims circled the pupil.

Suddenly, Dennis was yanked by the collar of his uniform, staring into O'Shea's maddened features. The scout's voice came in a gutteral hiss.

"Let me tell you, Dennis, you haven't the slightest idea of what those costs are. You've been so damned busy for six and a half years playing savior to the planet that you don't even know the people you're saving.

"The costs of this war was a nice guy I tried to discuss Talmudic literature and history with--remember Evan Blume? He liked canned peaches and poached eggs. There's your cost. The cost of this was a woman driven crazy by Flower spores and dying like a dog in an Invid slave farm, leaving a little girl orphaned. The cost of this war was Henrietta Dalby, whose only mistake was to stumble a little too close to a hidden Attack Scout. I don't remember too much of her, but I know she liked potted flowers, especially petunias. And the cost of this war was the systematic destruction of an entire town for slave labor and making parents watch as Enforcers shot their little girls and boys down--because they were _inconvenient_, Zinnert. You're always blabbing on what the Regent did to the population of Karbarra, can't you see this? Let's not get into Raymond Thieu--if he hadn't come along, we wouldn't have a Shadow Alpha now, would we?"

"I think I once read something about some Russian dicatator saying one death was a tragedy and a million a statistic. Well, looks like he was right in your case."

"Kevin--" Dennis hazarded. Kevin wasn't listening, the repressed frustration of years spilling out.

"You idiot REF white knights with your idiot idea that this all is a big game of Battleship--oh yeah, that's another game Blume liked--and your bloody going on and on and on about saving the entire Local Group from the Big Bad Bugs, especially while your own race and your birth world is writhing in pain from several alien invasions--at least you can go and separate yourself from the conflict and pat yourself on the back once you're done. These people can't! They have to live with the results, and then have you come in and claim victory for them--it wasn't you that did it! You don't have a stake in this war outside your own life, Zinnert." He no longer knew why he was shouting at the terrified Lieutenant, except that perhaps he could expunge, somehow, the feeling of culpability. "The cost of this war isn't in numbers, buster, and it's shortly going to include someone who is a pretty decent shot and who likes weeds and botany. Okay, you can rant the nine yards about the costs of fucking _war_, Second Lieutenant Zinnert, but don't go asking ME to save your ass when it comes time, because I'll already be dead, thanks to your counting

costs."

Abruptly, Kevin was on his feet, not quite running, not quite walking out the door, trying to outrun--something.

Zinnert lay back on the floor, gasping, his co-charter's raging countenace imprinted on his retinas and his words in his heart. Instead of calling out on assault, he simply lay there.

"And then they came for me, and there was nobody left to speak out," he murmured bleakly.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Malcolm was following Sherry's rigid back, futilely trying to gain her attention, when Dennis wandered by, his eyes dazed and his usually impeccable uniform wrinkled with deep creases, as though the front had been grabbed in a fist.

"Dennis?" Malcolm asked, momentarily shocked out of his own depression.

"Never mind," Zinnert muttered. Malcolm frowned, and miserably tried to think of what he needed to pack--and if Sherry would ever speak to him again.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The landing bay boomed, then rang with echoes as the jets cut out and the tons-heavy Battloid thudded to the ground. The pilot watched as the Enforcers began to move toward her to begin service to the mecha.

She did one last maneuver: the mecha marched over to a nearby pedestal-like growth, and carefully set the limp form in one hand down onto it. Then she herself opened the hatch and made the Gamun dip, lightly jumping down as the mecha straightened. Raking a hand through ghost-pale hair--she had not felt the armor was necessary for a recon operation, plus it was uncomfortable for her--she walked over and looked down, studying her prize.

_Still breathing. Good._ She had kept the human out of the worst of the wind of her passage and cut back on speed, and although unconscious, the female was still very much alive and stood to be functional. Oryo'i nodded to herself, then removed the helmet that had protected the human in flight.

As always, Oryo'i continued to be slightly surprised by how much the humans resembled herself. True, it was intentional on the Invid's part, but even several Terran orbits after the fact it was a shock.

Yes, this was certainly the one that had fired on her back at the farm. With a hand, she peeled back an eyelid. The same color of eye, the same pigmentation speckling, the same color of hair, the same scar on the cheek (how had she gotten that?).

Oryo'i smiled.

_At last--I ought to have done something to please him. This human should be a valuable tool in finding out at least one human group's locale for elimination--particularly the one that's caused me this recent trouble. However--I should obscure to my lord **how** I came to know this fact..._

She sighed and shrugged, unconsciouly human in her gesture. _Even if he does find out the raid, this should make up for it._

Another sigh, then she steeled herself. Patching herself to the hive's Brain, she sent her thoughts out over the miles...

Contact was instantaneous, and irritable.

_**YOU again!** What stupidity are you contacting me on now?_

_Yes, I, lord. But I hardly think what I am disturbing you on is trifling. You might find this of interest..._

She let down her mind, allowing him to probe into her memories and conclusions, quivering slightly with the loss of privacy as she did so. Shkud was not gentle.

For a time, images flickered in her skull, with her as spectator, as Shkud searched. There was a quick, hot spurt of irritation as he found the raid, but she paid no notice, for she was too busy shielding her feelings about him from his regard... Then, a series of mental grunts and mutters as he reacted to the information.

And then, amazingly enough, acquisence, and the beginnings of real pleasure and expectation from her superior's mind. He immediately shut it off, but the quality of it made her shiver. It had been the same satisfaction he had gotten from her demotion, multiplied a thousand times.

Almost, she pitied the human for what was to come. But--for the first time in months, it was not directed at Oryo'i herself. In place of contempt, there was a grudging appreciation.

There was a lengthy mental silence as he appeared to think it over. She had almost thought he'd disconnected, before his thought broke into her mind again.

He actually seemed thoughtful.

_Do not kill the human, Oryo'i. Not yet. I--have an interest--in questioning her myself. My own particular skills ought to make it more successful. I will arrive in a while to interrogate her. Until then, hold her in the lower levels for keeping._

Shkud coming here personally? Usually, she came to him, not the other way around.

She wondered. Again, she was getting the impression that there were things he was hiding from her.

_But your place, Solugi, is not to know MY thoughts on the subject, but to do what I ask of you. Do you understand?_ he asked sweetly. She started, not having heard him monitor her, and feeling his pleasure in frightening her, even now. _I will be there after night falls. Make sure she is conscious by then._

With that, he broke the connection.

He had not commended her. It was too much to ask, what with hiding the raid from him, and her completely uncondoned searching. And Shkud was what he was.

But things were certainly looking up.

"Place her in the holding pen on the second floor," Oryo'i said to the two Malar that arrived then and prepared to lift the human's limp body. Then she left to attend to her own needs, a suspicious lightening of her mood helping her through her weariness.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Night cloaked Base One with early gloom, doubled now that in fear of being found, they had shut off all unnecessary power, including lighting. The only glow was a halogen lamp flickering along the tiles, breaking the sullenness of the December darkness as the watch surveyed the area..

In the barracks, next to Miranda's bed, a small bundle was on another, smaller bed, with incongruously cheerful pink flowers and butterflies on the spread. The rest of the beds in the room were unoccupied, as their owners were busy helping with the nocturnal moving effort, but in this one, there was a huddle of blankets against the deepening chill.

In it, tear-tracks reddening her face, Florence Henderson had drifed off to an uneasy slumber,

There was a snuffle from underneath the bed, then something pale and fuzzy bounced up, and managed onto the bed. It snuffled around for a minute, inspecting the child's face, then curled up in the hollow of her body.

Florence did not notice, caught in the deepening darkness of her consciousness, the oily tendrils of nightmare beginning to reach for her almost instantly. Behind it lurked the unimaginable horrors only a child's mind could experience in a year's bondage, amplified by the events of the day.

And as almost always happened, just as they touched her, they were brusquely shoved away. Whimpering with relief, the little girl reached for who she knew would be there. Even in her dreams, the arms around her felt warm and real.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she gulped, and hung on, her dream body shivering.

"Aw, Florrie, do you think I wouldn't?" her savior said, picking her up into a solid-feeling lap. "I don't do that."

"But--"

There was a snort. "That time I was being chased by a bunch of bad guys and had to get away, honey. You know."

"But--" The other grew silent, catching the chaos of the child's mood. The shining hair swept down to curtain her face and Florence.

Florence had decided weeks ago that her night-friend was an angel, even without the wings. Maybe she could do something.

"Manda got taken by the monsters!" she wailed suddenly, and began to cry again. Her friend went stiff, then tightened her hold on her girl. "She needs help, bad!"

"What?" The angel's face dropped down to look into the girl's eyes. "Are you sure?"

Sniffling, Florence said so. A decidedly unangelic look was clouding her companion's face. Finally, she said: "Tell me what you know, Florrie."

Incoherently, Florence did so, until the other pieced it together. By the time Florence was done, the woman holding her was subvocalizing words that would have earned her automatic ejection from the heavenly realm.

"You gotta help her!" Florence said again, her blue eyes desperate.

Slowly, the other nodded. Of course she would, Florence thought, a glimmer of hope lifting her spirits. She was an angel after all, wasn't she?

"I have to see what I can do, Florrie. But don't worry, I'll help you. I swear it. Now do you know where you are?"

Nodding solemnly, Florence told her.

In the conscious world, the pollinator yawned deeply, then began to make whistling snores.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

O'Shea hadn't been completely right. There had been people that influenced his decision to be here, Dennis thought. He managed to navigate a pothole the size of a tub, then continued his path south, the equipment in his carrier rattling slightly.

_For example, there had been this girl, back on Tirol..._

Funny how a few years of fighting dimmed some memories and sharpened others.

Now that he remembered about her...

He had been crazy about her. Even though she worked in the med division and he was in the regular army, he'd used every pass he could to see her. The two months he'd gone out with her had been the happiest of his life thus far. She'd had long, golden-brown hair he loved to run his fingers though...

Then she dumped him for some high-class jock with fifty or so Invid kills.

When he tried to ask her why the one time he'd cornered her, she'd hawed and eventually come out with a excuse of "we're not compatible," that sounded a lot like "he wasn't exciting enough."

_What else is new?_ Zinnert thought.

The last he'd heard of her, she and her new beau were squabbling in a high-priced Tiresia resturaunt. The same day, despondent, he had signed up on the Jupiter Division's final push to Reflex Point.

He swerved around another pothole, aiming for the oppressive holed dome he felt more than saw against the gut of a sky that promised acid-cold snow.

If only he could be other than what he was, Dennis thought, perhaps the pain might go away. But he was what he was: not overly handsome, very much deliberate, and all too correct. So correct, in fact, that people tended over him toward the charming ones, the handsome ones, the companionable ones; while he relied on his rules to ease the hollowness inside.

Maybe a little incorrectness would get Dennis, if not love or respect, at least a good epitaph, and maybe the absolution of the guilt that had overcome him after the scalding words O'Shea had spoken earlier that day.

He passed the checkpoint, ID'd himself in, and began to walk through the tunnels of the ruined arena toward the center, and toward the entranceway to the stage area.

Nobody stopped him, the only person present being the guard at the entranceway. The rest, as Zinnert knew, were in the middle of moving preparations even in the wee hours of the morning. They could not risk the possibilitiy of the Invid's finding their location.

Finally, he reached the entranceway he wanted, wheeling his Cyclone through.

The Alpha loomed above him in gerwalk, its configuration allowing for VTOL manuvers through the gaping hole in the west side of the massive concrete dome. The mecha blended in with the darkness even when Zinnert turned on the halogen lantern, its black coloration, like that of the first Shadow designs, making it hard to see. Apparently some smart-aleck genius on Tirol had made his own peculiar homage to the original Shadow Alphas in the design scheme.

Zinnert stared at it a bit, trying not to let his thoughts get the better of him, then began to unload his Cyclone.

It was about twenty minutes before he was done; but at last, he had made all adequate preparations. He tried to get his Battler in the cargo space and already found a Ferret there. He was miffed, but then realized somebody had decided to do their own fitting of the mecha. And, after all, the Ferret was in its way much better suited for what he was thinking.

Shrugging, he climbed up into the front cockpit of the Alpha, seated, and lowered the canopy. It boomed shut, and he sighed.

"What took ya so long?" a voice drawled from behind him.

Zinnert went ballistic.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The first thing she was aware of was the hum; the second was that the floor felt warm for being a floor.

Groggily, she moved a hand, and winced halfheartedly. Her hand, and now that she thought about it, entire body felt as though someone had tried to flay it with a dull butter knife. This ignored the fact that in addition her ribcage hurt with every intake of breath she made. It was probably that which had woken her up.

There was an annoying actinic light off to her left, and aching, she turned her face away. Who was the idiot who'd turned on the flourescents this time of the morning? And why was she on the floor to begin with?

And especially, who had left the vegetable stores out to compost?

Cringing, blinking crusted eyes, she looked up.

The lights off to her left were a retina-aching blue-white series of lines in a rather attractive chessboard pattern, with squares about a foot wide in diameter. On her right was a darkness she took to be a niche or wall. Beyond the luminary chessboard, there was more darkness. She could not tell for certain; as brilliant as the light-grid was, it shed suprisingly little light and only seemed to increase shadows. The floor underneath her hands was, as she had noticed, warm and oddly pliable.

Somebody certainly decorated the place, she thought detachedly. Sherry probably had a field day when I was knocked out after guard duty.

Whimpering, she painfully got her legs underneath her and sat up, raking the tangled mess of her hair out of her eyes. Time to get it trimmed again, she thought. Sore and shaky, she pivoted her head around, looking for a familiar landmark.

She'd been in CVR the last she knew, hadn't she? Why wasn't there any on...

The last dregs of her unconsciousness dribbling away, she began to truly see and remember.

Softly, coldly, the reality settled over her like a blanket of lead, and she began to whimper in helpless fear. Oh, she remembered that smell, out of the haunts of her nightmares, and in daydreams best not described.

She was in the belly of the beast.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Dandelions: Chapter 8 of 9**

Dennis' neck was screaming bloody murder, but he completely ignored the fact as he stared in naked shock behind him. Out of many things, this was something he had not expected.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust.

"You," he hissed.

"Me."

Ignoring the daggers Zinnert was glaring at him, the CVR-armored man in the copilot's seat took his feet off the back of the pilot's seat and took his helmet from his lap. He looked at it for a second, then placed it over his head, visor up. The untanned pallor of his face seemed to gleam in the faint light of the console.

Dennis glared as he began to massage his abused neck. "O'Shea, what in the hell are you doing back there?"

Kevin looked frank. "Waiting for you."

"You--" Zinnert could not find a good phrase to finish the word with and fumbled.

"It's early December, Dennis. You aren't going to catch flies this time of year." The tone, while light, was completely belied by the unnerving stare of the pale blue eyes. "Like I said, waiting for you."

Dennis at last found something. "O'Shea, you're not authorized to fly an Alpha."

"I know. That's why I was waiting for you."

"Why'd you think I'd be here?" Dennis challenged, feeling completely out of his depth and belying his presence in the Veritech.

"Simple deduction, Dennis. Knowing you, I figured that after what I said to you earlier, you'd either be so eaten up by remorse you'd eventually do something stupid to make amends, or you were so whipped out of compassion you weren't worth following. And seeing as this is the single most powerful mecha in our arsenal..." Kevin punctuated it with a half-seen shrug.

"Of all the manipulative--" Dennis sputtered.

"Believe me, I wasn't orginally flaying you for that express purpose. But at the time," Kevin's eyes were hard, "I meant what I said." He might have smiled in the darkness. "So I figured it might be a smart idea to get out here and wait for you."

"How'd you get in?"

"Hey, I'm a spy. I'm supposed to be good at this sort of thing. Besides, there's quite a few entrances around here, and considering it's common knowledge Matt and you are the only ones with the capability to fly Variable Fighters in this dump--" Kevin shrugged again and leaned foward, cracking his knuckles and stretching.

Dennis sighed, feeling foolish. "O'Shea--chivalry is all well and good but--"

"You're in the Alpha too." Kevin pointed out. Dennis winced.

"Kevin, two-fifths of the Elms charter is in this cockpit. One of us shouldn't be risking himself like this. You're the single most experienced scout in this group, and if you get killed--which is damn likely, considering the situation--a lot of know-how gets buried with you."

Kevin sighed. "Pretty good, Dennis, but are you really suggesting we ought to go out and get somebody else for this little suicide mission at one in the morning? Matt has the biggest heart I know of, but you know he'll stop you. Besides--speaking of experience, don't you have a few years in the Sentinels War under your belt? That should amount to something."

Zinnert grunted noncommittally. After a second, Kevin made a wondering sound. "Damn. You don't think it's worth all that much. You really don't. M'god." Dennis winced again depite himself, hoping Kevin could not see in the darkness.

_Jesus, how does he know?_

"Anyway, Dennis--" Kevin let out a shaky sigh, "there really are a couple good reasons I suggest you dragging me along with you. Other than the fact Amanda means something to me." He sucked in another breath, loud in the dead cold silence in the Alpha cockpit.

"You know those energy fences around protoculture farms? Invid use a variant of 'em to hold prisoners in hives too, human prisoners. Touching them is pain itself, not to mention taking them down is more than a matter of flinging a few GR missiles at them. It might kill the prisoner if you tried, too."

"And there's no way of unlocking it, I take it."

Kev swallowed and took in a shaky breath. "Bright move, Dennis. Right. Unless you suddenly get psychically gifted. And it also helps to have somebody to guard your ass meanwhile too."

Dennis grunted. "If we don't actually get killed trying to storm the hive alone first."

Kevin licked his lips and drew in a breath. "Actually, I know of ways to get us in that way too, Dennis."

Dennis looked over. "What?"

"I said, I've got ways of getting us in. Or at least, close enough that we can hit the place."

Dennis' brow furrowed. "Are you crazy? If they took her to the sort of hive I have in mind, O'Shea, they're going to have linebacker and clam patrols around it thick as leaves. We couldn't dream of getting close enough without alerting them."

Kevin stared at the lieutenant, the sheef fixedness of his gaze, and something contained therein, causing something to go cold in the pit of Zinnert's gut.

Kevin O'Shea said, softly: "Not if I know they're coming. Which I will."

Dennis looked blank, and said, "What? Oh, yeah, the recon equipment in the back ought to help in locating patrols. Nice job for the Icarus." A rememberance hit him then. "But do you know how to use it? I don't think you've managed to see it yet. In fact, have you ever used this stuff? I thought you came in as a civilian."

"Did."

"Well, if you don't know how to use the equipment, how do you say you'll know when patrols'll be coming around? The only way outside hardware to detect Invid, as far as I know is another...another--"

Dennis couldn't think of how to complete the thought; his mental footing lost.

In a timeless instant, he was devoid of all thought, the sweat breaking out on his forehead, vaguely aware his neck still throbbed. Mouth gaping, he stared blankly at the figure in the back.

For over six years, he had had a set conception of the people surrounding him, an image which he thought had been concrete and solid. Now, for the first time, he got the feeling it was an optical illusion, a picture of two facial silhouettes staring at each other.

"Jesus Christ. Jesus H. Christ."

What he had thought was the First Scout of the Elms had just become a vase.

"God, you're slow on the uptake, Dennis." he heard.

_Yeah, _ Zinnert thought blankly. _Yeah, I guess I am._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Aaaaghh!"

Amanda jerked back her hand, shaking in sheer hurt, trying to examine her hand. Where she expected char was only smooth, freckled skin.

She tried to reach her hand out again, but could not force it near the light bars again. Her will said yes, but her instincts would not, could not make her body cooperate.

She had no idea how long she had been at this, but the terrorized knowledge of her situation had made her try over and over in spite of the pain that seemed to increase with each time. Agony or no, it was better than sitting and being driven to near madness with the knowing.

She licked her lips, knowing that it had to had been several hours at the very least since she had had anything to drink. Her mouth felt like tissue paper. There was no water in the cell with her. She wondered if it would have been wise to drink it had there been, and knew probably not.

She probably would have anyway.

Shaking with the constant roar of adrenalin in her system, she folded to the ground, her hands supporting clammy forehead, and she could not help but remember.

_What did I ever to do to be in this position? Why was I born to be here?_

She supposed that in a perverse way, it was just as well Grace hadn't lived to be as old as Amanda herself. Knowing one to be the indirect cause of the death of one's mother through a postpartum infection would be cause enough for guilt. And Gracie had been such a happy little girl, with freckles as profuse as Amanda's but with their father's light ginger-red hair...

That led to the imprint of a pair of hauntingly human blue eyes on her mind. Although, she supposed, not quite as much as being trapped in the position of choosing to kill one's own people or choosing to see the perversion of a sacred promise. She could hardly envy Kevin's position.

Like Antigone, she thought, having read the play a week earlier at Miranda's insistence.

And Gwen's bitter, envious countenance... what had Amanda ever done to earn that woman's hate?

She supposed that no matter, something probably would have happened. Gwendolyn's betrayal was only at a convenient juncture.

From that, she went into a bleak reminscence and walk through her memory, her family life, their gardening projects and pea hybridizations, through the Elms, the Invid, humanity, Kevin, and the distinctions thereof. An indistinct time later, she raised her head again, thinking that perhaps she had forgotten the agony of the first few times enough to try again. It was hardly worse than the agony eating her up inside, and the constant war to forget what most likely awaited her once the Invid decided to return their intentions to her.

She began to rise again, but her ruminations had taken longer than she had thought. Her legs and the old injury in her ankle were half-fallen asleep, and did not fully cooperate. Stumbling, she tripped and fell face foward onto the light grating.

Her scream of indescribable pain sawed through the hive tunnel for what seemed miles. Clawing and wailing, she rolled away from the light and toward the back of her cell, tears pouring out of her eyes. In the back of her mind, she definitely knew she was not going near that grating ever, ever again.

Oblivious to the outside, Amanda did not notice the scuffling from the other side of the passageway and the half-vocalized, irritated complaints emitting from the depths of the shadows within. It was only when Amanda had finished touching every square inch of her face to see it was still there that her viridian eyes popped open, rimmed with moisture. She began to breathe harder, imagining horrors that Invid hives might contain.

She did not expect, of all things, a decidedly feminine voice from the other side, speaking in perfect English. It seemed irritated.

"Will you be quiet and cease that demented ape-screaming? Some are trying to sleep in this accursed place."

Amanda rolled to her knees, breathing hard. "Who--who is it? Who's out there?"

"Someone who's trying to ignore her sentence with blessed oblivion, fool. I take it you haven't learned yet."

A weak, sullen light suddenly sprouted from an unknown source, vaguely illuminating the area. Amanda immediately wished it had not; Invid decor was not helping her already fragile state of mind.

She could see the lineaments of her enclosure; more a niche barred over than anything, with those hellish light-bars a few inches further in than the corporeal ones double-sealing the area. Outside, the corridor stretched away and curved out of sight, about twelve feet wide at the most.

On the other side was a series of ceramic bars identical to Amanda's own, but with no light bars inside for some unknown reason. Other than that, the cell seemed identical to Amanda's own. It was dark beyond the bars.

As Amanda looked on, her heart thumping, something moved in the shadows and then into the light.

The opposing cell's occupant leaned on her bars, looking at Amanda with disgust. Amanda in her own turn looked at her, trying to understand what was going on with her battered sense of things.

Through three sets of bars and the dodgy light, she could make out a figure about three or four inches taller than herself, and slender enough to make Amanda, whose own Germanic physique was a testament to a lifetime of lean eating and heavy exercise, seem clumsy and gross. It looked to be clad in a tight-fitting, strangely-designed bodysuit of varigated white, red and pink, which made its occupant look like a large candy cane. The curves it outlined were undeniably female.

The hair, which seemed to be a candy-apple red with heavy white streaks, went past the shoulders and framed a face that had a kind of sophisticated elfin prettiness to it. It furthered the peppermint impression. But the eyes--Amanda saw them at last, and took in a breath--there was nothing whatsoever sweet about the eyes.

The eyes glaring at her were a sulfurous lemon yellow. The thoughts they reflected were not human.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Gah."

"Yes?"

"Uh."

"Yes?"

"Gnnh."

"My, your conversation's gifted."

"Ah..."

"Told you, there aren't any flies in December."

Silence.

"HOW LONG?" Zinnert screamed.

The fine features in the back distorted in a scowl and the blue eyes looked up toward the ceiling. "Oh God."

"How long have you...you...been posing as O'Shea?!"

The back seat erupted. "Posing--_posing_ as **_WHAT_**???" Zinnert suddenly felt his neck yanked yet again as he was pulled back by the collar, and he was staring face-to-goggle-eyed-face with a quite outraged Kevin. "Dennis, let me get this through your tiny little primate mind.

"I didn't bloody well wake up one fine morning deciding how nice it would be to have green blood. Nor did I cosh some other guy that looked like me and take his place and stow him in the Mississippi. The same man you chartered with is the same guy who's talking to you now. It's been the same person for all this time.

"Dennis, I'm Invid. It's not something I'm terribly proud of, but it's the truth at last."

"You mean..."

"Yep."

"God." Zinnert felt like passing out seemed like a good option. I've gone and chartered with an Invid, no wonder the blood screening didn't apply to him...

"Granted, this wasn't the best time to let you know. Hell, it isn't the best time for _me _to tell you it. But trust me, I think the Pod People bit's for the birds."

A couple minutes passed before Zinnert managed to organize the disaster area of his mind into semi-order. "But you and Matt..."

"A coverup. Frankly we stank at it, neither of us being inclined that way."

"But..."

"It's amazing," Kevin declared to the universe at large, "how the human race will delude itself into an unlikely possibility rather than accept an unpleasant truth."

"All right, all right, I get the point."

"Well, that's a relief."

"So when you--were allegedly attacked by the Scout--"

"Wasn't a Scout, Dennis. Was a Kraken. The green stuff splattered on me was from me."

Dennis did a rapid calculation, then said: "You mean Pierson knew??"

A terse nod. "That's how she found out. Which makes it even more important that we find a way to get her out of there. Dennis, I'm a traitor, and traitors are anathema to the collective. The Invid will leave no stone unturned to take me out of the picture, and they'll take the Elms out while they're at it. If they manage to...force her..."

Dennis nodded. Already, he was gaining a grip over his composure thanks to his training and mostly out of necessity. They had very little time left before Matt discovered their absence.

The sudden discovery would have to wait for later for him to understand. If O'Shea--or whatever the hell whatever he was called--had worked these many years with him, a betrayal was exceedingly unlikely.

He shoved the helmet down. "So--what hive to the northeast do you think they took her to?"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"You..."

Amanda licked her lips, sweat dribbling down her forehead, and began out of gummy lips. "You're Invid, aren't you?"

A sniff and a head inclination from the opposing cell. "Very observant you are, Human." The cold yellow eyes glared at Amanda.

Amanda considered her.

There were subtleties to this being's behavior, movements and carriage that were ticking off alarm systems to the human even after a couple minutes of encounter. Amanda was not consciously aware of the vast language of nonverbal cues human beings used to communicate with each other, but she did not need to be to let the lack of them from the other prisoner confuse her. Similarly, although the English used by the Invid was technically flawless, there was a stiltedness, a sense of maladjustment to her use of the tongue that let the other feel how alien speaking it was to the Invid female's thought processes.

She realized in an instant that there was a world of difference between Kevin and this--this--creature, for all they shared the same racial background.

It made cold sweat spring up along her spine.

Nonetheless, she was as imprisoned as Mandy herself. Interesting. She decided to find out in order to ignore her situation.

"Name's Amanda Pierson, human resistance fighter. We have a custom of introducing ourselves here. Can I ask you who you are?"

The Invid blinked, surprised. "My name is Siaga, daughter of the Invid race. I am--or rather, will shortly have been--will have been--curse your tenses--Solugi and princess of the lower rank." A twisted grimace that might be a smile marred her lips. "Perhaps I should have kept my mind quieter, although knowing HIM, it probably would not have made any difference."

"Him? What?"

A widening of that ill-fitting ironic grin. "Ah, I shouldn't--but I suppose it makes no difference, not to a human and in this place." The grin faded. "I had a few conflicts of interest, and thus I am here." With an elegant, long-boned hand, the woman indicated her confines with a flip of her fingers through the cross-hatch of her bars.

Distantly, Amanda wondered how the Invid humanoids went about manicures.

"Yes? I suppose I could know about that sort of thing. Your people bombing my world and all. That's conflict."

An inhuman hiss of disgust. "You know nothing of it, human."

"I know I'm probably going to--to..." she could not finish the last word. "And probably h-hurt a lot b-before."

The Invid Siaga blinked. Then, a dry, ratchety sound scratched out of her throat. It was a second before Amanda realized that it was her idea of contemptous laughter.

Anger and fear was building rapidly toward an outburst from Amanda when the cawing resolved into words. "Ah, spirit of light, you ignorant ape! At least you will have the mercy of dying!"

The laughter dissolved into chokes, and the candy-colored figure released the bars, doubling over in pain.

Shocked, the human realized she was trying to weep.

She could only watch and wait as the shudders of the crouched Siaga ceased after several minutes.

Still breathing raggedly, the Invid muttered bleakly, "At least you will die. I..." The light green eyes were wide around the irises, and the yellow did not need to ask for the question unspoken when they raised.

"I will still live. Or at least something that was once I. And I wish I would die." The dry rasp sussurrated through the passageway. "I am sentenced to devolution to iigaari for aiding and abetting of your kind."

"You--what?"

Spitting noises. Finally, the alien regained enough of her sense to answer. She was understandably unwilling, but what she whispered did not seem to take the human's presence into account.

"They put us down... claimed we were no more than poor prototypes of their glorious selves. We who had once been Our Mother's greatest creations, before them. **He** most of all, and I had to be vassal to him. He would--no matter. He would raise my hopes... I would to anything, just for the hope of favor, for the signs of encouragement he would give me.

"And when I had broken myself trying, and expected a reward--he wouldn't! And call me a fool for believing, enjoying my pain all the while. And if I tried to reason, or be unwilling to go through with his game..." The figure shuddered, and she would say no more. "And then, after a time, he would start again. And fool that I am, I believed him, over and over."

"Who's 'he'?"

Siaga would not tell her. Instead, the lifeless whisper came on, seemingly unaware of Amanda's listening in.

"I decided if he and they would make my existence thus, I would return some on them. And so I started to observe the humans. And not report on them. I did not tell him of them. My own kin. And then I started leaving opredti canisters where the humans would find them. And when they attacked, renewed by them, his rage grew beyond bounds.

"And I smiled. Oh, how much pleasure I got out of it. Was it what he felt when doing it to me? The satisfaction I got spiting him--"

"Who's he?"

The alien finally heard her. Hopelessly, she stared at her.

"They. The lords. The leaders. Our...masters. I should have known...one day, he would have seen too far into me..."

Devolution. Something roiled in the human's gut. It had been a favorite punishment of the Invid Regent, from Kevin's and Dennis's reports. What the alien had said would happen to her was tantamout in the Invid to rape.

In some ways, it was worse. At least sexual invasion allowed for the chance of healing, but this was a willful destruction of all that she was, with no hope of ever recovering it.

And most terribly, she would live on with only the torturing memories of what she had been. Amanda would die. Most likely in agony, but her genetic code and her soul were at least involiate.

And this talk of "masters..."

She narrowed her lips.

"Siaga?" she asked. The blank eyes stared at her. "If I get the chance--I'll make sure you'll never have to endure that. Even if I have to--kill you. I promise."

A weak light of comprehension and stillborn hope glimmered in the sulfur-colored orbs, and the Solugi inclined her head.

"I give you my greatest thanks for that offer, Amanda Pierson. But you will not get that chance." She lifted her head. In the sudden silence, Amanda's blood turned to stone as she heard the dull thuds of treads coming toward their prison cells.

"It seems that they are coming for you." Siaga said softly.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Amanda's just one woman," Dennis said, flipping the final switches. "It's likely they took her to the nearest hive of any note in that direction. That leaves us with a choice of two."

"Got a coin?" Dennis scowled at the back.

"I though _you_ of all people would know where."

There was a raspberry from the back seat. "After six years, with them doing the sort of things they have? Not at all damn likely, Dennis." Kevin made humming noises as he thought. "The major hive or the biggish one a bit closer. The Lafayette hive--we may just as well slit our throats trying to get into that. Too heavily guarded. The nearer one is probably our best bet. Like you said," there was a slight, significant hesitation, "Mandy's only--an average fighter."

"Not if they get her to reveal your involvement as you said." There was an intake of breath from Kevin. "Probably a good idea to get her if we can before they break her that far."

"God, you're a callous bastard."

"I'm stating the facts. YOU said them first." Zinnert said flatly.

"Amanda wouldn't do that. She...wouldn't break. Not that quickly." Kevin said in a tone near pleading.

"Guess again," Dennis stated more gently. "The Invid on Garuda weren't above exposing prisoners to the atmosphere. And you know what happened to Pierson's and Henderson's community. And for us Humans," he sighed, the statement hitting closer home than he desired, "pain...is a powerful motivator."

Kevin said nothing for a moment, and made a noise of understanding.

There was something in the broken quality of the sound that started Zinnert's mind ticking.

Kevin spoke again. "The nearer one. Let's go out and get killed, Dennis."

Dennis chuckled. "Wonder what last words I should say."

"'It's a hundred and fifty miles to the hive, we got a full tank of protoculture, half a payload of missiles, it's dark, and we're wearing CVR?'"

Dennis gave the Invid a dirty look. "You were watching that movie again, weren't you?"

"Proud to say on my free time. Hit it."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The guard outside the hangar was a blameless sort. It could be said that his efforts to keep warm in the deepening chill of the early morning, at a time when his body temperature was at its lowest, did not leave his mind on his duties. He could hardly be accused for ignoring the very slight scuffling inside (as Kevin had stalked past his point), nor the later entrance of a known accredited officer. He was too busy shivering in misery, his heavy winter uniform and several layers of clothing nonwithstanding.

But despite that, the sudden rumble attracted his attention.

He was about to run inside and into the wide area from which the sound growled, but then the rumbling built into a sudden roar of discharged jets.

As he stared in blank wonder, there was a flare of light, and the roar suddenly unmuffled, as almost daintily, the VAF-8R Alpha seemed to float from within the gaping hole of the dome and into the frigid night skies.

For a second, as he gaped, mouth opened to the wind, the Shadow Veritech hovered above the hole in gerwalk, blue-white jets searing from the foot thrusters, like some Daliesque version of a wyvern.

The legs folded back, rotating, in the space of two seconds resolving into rear thrusters.

Then the roar boomed, and the Alpha turned into lightning. It was seen for an instant, then it streaked with incredible speed toward the horizon, curling clockwize toward the north and east as it did so.

The guard stood there stupidly, then cursed robustly, a legacy of his time as an SCA grunt. Within a second, he had flicked a switch and barked his call, receiving a muddled reply from the other end.

"Get the Lieutenant. He's going to want to hear about this."

Then he stood, looking at where the Alpha had gone, occasionally shifting as the first flakes of thin snow came down.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The thud of Invid treads was unmistakable. After a couple of minutes Amanda knew they were coming toward their area, all her fond hopes to the contrary.

Her mouth tissue-dry, she rasped, "How do you know?"

Siaga sighed. "I'm probably going to be given more time to think about my fate, while I still have the capability to. You, Human, likely have information they want now."

Amanda nodded, and rose to her feet, flinching away from the energy bars. She met Siaga's eyes. "I wish there was something I could say."

"There is not." The condemned Invid was blunt as she too rose to her feet, regaining the tatters of her dignity.

The noise turned down into their corridor, coming into their sphere. Abruptly in the gloom, the jailers marched toward them.

There was two of the eight-foot-high gray-colored Enforcers, seemingly the only old mecha class retained in Invid service, marching side-by side. Neither was armed; an unarmed human was in no condition to fight back.

Between them the light limmed another figure, seemingly human.

Amanda stared on, her mind washed crystalline by the hours of fear. In a limpid emotionlessness, she considered.

Like Siaga, this Invid was of the humanoid breed and female. There the simlarities ended.

She was about the same height as Siaga, but even more leanly graceful. While identical in design to Siaga's own, this one's uniform was shadowy gray and flaming red-orange, with accents of red. Above it, the long moonlight-colored hair and pallid, delicately severe beauty of the face seemed to hover in the darkness. The eyes, a close match to the orange scheme of her uniform, observed the observer with a clinical attitude.

Something about the colors sent off alarm bells in Amanda's head, but she was too busy at the time to take note.

"Ah, Oryo'i!" Siaga drawled in English. "I see you're here collecting. Tell me, how does our lord treat you these days? Same graciousness that I remember? Hope the benefits are worth the tasks."

The second Solugi jerked her shoulders. "Siaga, shut up." For some reason, both were allowing Amanda to listen in.

An explosive noise of dismissal came from Siaga's lips. "What have I to lose, by this point, Oryo'i?"

"Your life, Condemned." Oryo'i snapped.

"Ah, but I'm trying for that." However she had learned the feat, the hawking noise and the well-aimed glob of spittle plopping near Oryo'i's feet underlined Siaga's challenge impressively.

The other humanoid made an obviously forced decision to ignore the Invid prisoner, and turned to the human. Amanda had barely enough time to wipe her face clean of expression; since the second Siaga had spoken the other's name, her mind had been a litany of _ohshitoshitohshitohshitohshit..._

Abruptly, the light grid vanished, leaving blinded afterimages in her eyes. She got a fragmentary vision of the Invid woman pressing a sequence on an area next to her cell. The ceramic bars retracted into the floor and into the walls. As soon as they were gone, the Enforcers moved forward, blunt claws reaching for Amanda's arms.

She stepped forward. "I can walk myself," she said.

Oryo'i's eyes narrowed to fire-colored slits.

After a second, the surprisingly melodious mezzo-soprano mused, "I don't know, human. Your kin seem elusive enough. Enforcers..." The suits moved forward again, but Amanda stepped back.

"I'll come, but I'm not going to get dragged there." It was a pathetic plea, but Amanda wanted that much of her dignity left. The Enforcers hesitated again, and Amanda took the opening to walk docilely forward, to Oryo'i's bemusement. "I'm weaponless. You saw to that, didn't you?"

This actually flustered the Invid, to Siaga's snicker. "And how would you know, human?"

"Your color scheme's that of the Battloid that captured me. I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Oryo'i stared at her for a second longer. "Ah yes. In that case, since you so plead..." she gestured the other two guards over to stand by the human's sides, then walked behind them. "I will alllow you this. Do not attempt to escape; there is nowhere within this hive for you to hide, and I have a pistol at your back." The Enforcers began to move in unison down the corridor, and Amanda had to startle to keep up. Underneath the thud of her field boots and that of the Enforcers' treads she could hear the light pat of the Invid's soles behind her.

Siaga called out, "Give my regards to Shkud, Oryo'i!" Another spit followed on the words, then silence as the holding cells were left behind.

"Fool," Oryo'i muttered. Unlike Siaga, Terran English seemed to come more smoothly to her. "If she was to sabotage our occupation, she could have at least kept well out of his mindsight. Messy."

"If I may ask," Amanda said in a cool voice, "who is this Shkud person she was talking about?"

There was a sudden silence from her captor. Then:

"You will find out soon enough. You're being taken to him."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Gwen looked terrible.

Having a teammate captured was cause enough, but the reddened, puffy eyes and the expression anguished even in her restless slumber denoted something more than that. Ulm had a fairly good idea by this point of its cause. He reached over and roughly shook her awake. Trembling and crying, she shuddered to awareness, amber eyes wild, before identifying the silhouette of the stocky, CVR-armored figure above her. The reddened eyes widened even further.

"Gwen?"

She nodded.

"I have something for you to do with me."

Her eyes were all white around the iris now. He'd have felt sorry for her except for his suspicions.

She nodded again and stood up, fully clad. Instead of leading her off, Matthew leaned against the door, studying her as she began to shift in her stance.

"You know," he said softly, "It's a bit interesting how Pierson got captured earlier. Do you think you could tell me again what happened there? I'm going to need to know."

Gwendolyn licked her lips, eyes flicking at his feet. "I was trying to help her. I was runnin' full speed back to where she and the Invid mech were tangling, hopin' to get a few missiles off at the thing, but it swooped down and grabbed 'er. She...she didn't even have time to transmode."

Matt studied the chalky countenance, just long enough for her to start to shift in nervousness.

"Funny, because earlier you told me that you'd turned down a side street before you heard the Battloid coming and had turned back. How long had she been trying to outrun it with no help?"

Gwen's eyes widened and her already alabaster countenance paled further.

"And another thing, Gwendolyn. When we went to investigate the abduction site, we found her Forager lying in the middle of the road, locked in mid-transmode. She may not have had time to complete it, but she'd certainly started it. I'd thought your powers of observation were among the best of the group."

The look on Gwen's face was indescribable.

Ulm's voice remained quiet.

"I know you didn't like Pierson. That's perfectly fine. But she was a fellow Elm regardless. Whatever the true circumstances were, the fact remains that you're obviously lying about your role in all this."

Gwen gulped.

"A soldier doesn't let her personal feelings get in the way of her aiding her allies. You did. Being controlled by your jealousy not only endangered Pierson, but the lives of everyone in this oufit."

The woman was trembling now, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"It's obvious you had second thoughts. Remorse is well and good, Rutherford, but you've helped damage our ability to hide forever. There will be more Invid now, and Amanda will be only the first.

"That's only the beginning of the mess. I take it your private vendetta with her had a good deal to do with O'Shea. Well, for your information, he and Lieutenant Zinnert have just hijacked our only Alpha and taken off in the direction of Lafayette. It's a good thing both of them are as good at their jobs as they are, or they wouldn't have a snowball's chance in Hell. They might, however, have a snowball's chance on a hot day. If you ever want to ensure that both of them see the day after tomorrow alive, it might behoove you to follow me."

"Why?" she managed at last.

"Because we're going to make up for your error by going after them."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

There seemed to be miles of passages, with no obvious changes to them save a gradual widening to something large enough to admit the Elms' Veritech. Amanda held herself carefully, knowing that any sudden movement would be grounds for constraint or killing. Not once did she lose her awareness of the cold orange eyes at her back.

_Who am I fooling?_ she asked herself. _It'll get bad enough pretty shortly._

Only a couple times did they pass other of the Invid running the site; they paid no attention, which was in its way more unnerving than if the human had been the source of stares. It was not the act of humans to do so. But the Enforcers and their attendant Sentinels were not. Amanda fought down the low but incoming tide of panic, knowing that eventually she would lose against it.

Eventually, they came to the end of the passage way, opening only on a vast shaft. Amanda hesitated when they neared it, earning a sharp prod in the back from the Invid.

"Go on," Oryo'i said.

Amanda hesitated, then saw a sort of invisibly supported platform hovering in the center of the shaft, near enough for her to step on. She did so at a further prompt, the platform supporting her and the three Invid with no change in its movement.

It began to rise, startling Amanda before she realized it was a kind of elevator. The acceleration was completely unnoticable until she realized they were rising very quickly indeed. They whizzed up...darkness, lost like a single cell in the bloodstream...flashes as entrances passed them, then eventually growing light as they neared the entrance of the upper floor.

They left the platform behind, the "floor" beneath them the same unnerving warm sponginess as the lower level. The omnipresent vegetable stink of the Invid hive was less here, as though those who lived here took more unfavorable notice of it. These facts the human impersonally noted and stored away, curiously detached from her situation.

_Zazen's...being still,_ Kevin said in her head. _Letting events flow, not letting them move you. Helped me to no end._ She noted the information, and tried to maximize the feeling or lack of it, as they moved further into the depths of the hive, toward what Amanda presumed was the center point.

They rounded one last turn, and darkness loomed before them. It took Amanda's eyes a few seconds to adjust and realize it was not so much darkness as that the size of the chamber minimized the dim radiance of whatever it was that the Invid used for light sources. But by that point, they were already inside, and Amanda temporarily lost most of her visual capacity.

She stood there, vaguely aware she was trembling a bit and that the Enforcers had separated themselves from her sides somewhat. She did not know where the Invid Oryo'i was, but she was no longer at her back.

She jumped violently as she felt a hand--seemingly human--abruptly grasp her chin with a deceptive gentleness that promised enough power to shatter her jawbone if it so chose.

She could hear breathing, but she had had no idea when the other had walked up to her blinded self. Rapidly she blinked her eyes, begging them to adjust; she was only making out the sudden outline of a humanoid figure better than a head and a half taller than her.

"This is the human?" she heard a brittle voice in English in front of her in a male reigister.

"It is, my lord," Oryo'i's voice said a couple of feet off to her side. Amanda's eyes flickered over, catching an image of a kneeling figure. "I believe she has the information we seek."

The voice in front of her softened venomously. "Ah, but who said 'we,' Solugi?" Oryo'i did not answer. "But undeniably human. The thought processes are obviously primitive enough." A quick, unwilling spurt of anger leapt through Amanda's thoughts. There was a chuckle. "And apparently quite sensitive about it as well." The hand abruptly tightened its hold on her chin, and she gasped in pain from the grip now hard enough to bruise. The human feel was a front; the strength in it was not normal. The second Invid--for it had to be--was apparently of superior rank to her original captor, she thought, her mind racing. "I think it might serve to encourage her to part with her information."

_How? I will **not** give it away. I can't, or the others are dead. Torture..._ She shivered with apprehension.

The voice dropped silibantly. "Do you know where you are, Human? I can make you wish you'd never had the thought in what mind you have to ever think of defiance." She could feel his breath on her face. Still queerly emotionless, she did not answer.

The lock on her face was released; she staggered back, only to be met with a stunning blow to her cheek, pain flaring through her. Blinking away the purple blotches, she lay on the floor, staring up at the towering figure of the Invid above her. The panic was beginning to leak back in; the pain had throuwn her out of her trance state. Whimpering, she tried to lift a hand to her blazing and bruising cheek, but a foot came down; deliberately, the weight came after it, causing her to squirm in more agony as the Invid's not inconsiderable mass came within a few pounds of pressure of breaking her wrist. Whimpering, she saw the figure's head bent down to study her in critical interest.

"What a pathetic specimen," the voice drawled. "Disgusting little vermin. I almost wish the Regis hadn't seen fit to deem this the proper form to copy us after." The foot came down harder; this time. Amanda could not restrain a squeal of pain. A satistfied noise murmured from his throat.

Behind the pain, the anger blazed. At that sound of obscene satisfaction, it momentarily became an inferno. Amanda did the first thing that came to her mind; with her free hand, she attempted to give a quick, strategic blow to his knee. It affected absolutely nothing; but then the pressure was gone. She rolled, and then gagged as a hand lifted her by the collar of her jumpsuit, to his eye level. By this point, she was beginning to make out facial features through the blue and purple blotches of choking.

The voice was a silken hiss. "Not wise, Human." Amanda, between the constriction on her windpipe, the smarting, cold burning of the growing bruise on her face, and the screaming pain in her left wrist, did not take time to take notice of it. Light shimmered across the silhouetted face as the features contorted in contempt.

"What's with this thing?" he snapped. "She has about as much reaction as a plant. I though her breed was rather more emotional than that."

"My lord," Oryo'i murmured, "Her...experiences...may have caused a mental disassociation from her surroundings . It appears to be a kind of survival reflex."

"Survival?" he asked in a lilting tone. "Stupid flesh. No wonder they go around rutting all the time--ah-hah!" The leg moved fluidly away from a kick, and Amanda choked. "I see some reaction now. A pity I have to leave it in a state to answer me."

Amanda's brain was buzzing with edges of blackness, but she found enough strength to haul her collar away from the constriction on her neck, allowing a gulp of vegetable-flavored hive air.

"In your dreams, Shkud," she whispered through her tormented windpipe.

There was an intake of breath. "It speaks! It even knows my name. How would this miracle go about?" A hum of consideration. "Ah yes, the traitor and your mouth, Oryo'i. A moot point, to be sure."

Shattering pain as the floor slammed into her, knocking out her wind, the obscene warmth like flesh. She wheezed through her liberated windpipe, a cocktail mix of anger, emerging hate, confusion, hurt, fear and panic roaring through her. She heard the creak and shift of his armor as he crouched down to study her with clinical, amused relish.

"But enough entertainment for now. Correct, Human? It is now time to ask you a few things. It might be wise to answer me."

_For what? Like you're going to use fewer thumbscrews if I'm a good dog?_

"Why? Will...you...give me my a personalized nametag...if I cooperate?" she snarled, beyond caring.

Oh, the anger. Blind purpose and battle-drive contained it in skirmishes, but what she'd felt in her mad fire on Oryo'i at the farm was a pale copy of... this... No way to execute it, no way to use it, trapped, so it built. She shuddered away as the long, human-seeming fingers and thumb pinned her neck to the floor underneath them, leaving only enough air to breathe. He seemed to like choking her.

But now that he was no longer either hurting her or cutting off her entire supply of air, she was able to flit her eyes around the dark, organic purgatory of her surroundings, to find her sight had adjusted to the dimness.

Above her, his face eclipsed the view of the ceiling for a second...something wrong about it...then she was hauled again to her feet by the collar.

He was indeed about a couple heads taller than she, making him shorter than Gerald but a good bit taller than anyone else in the Elms. He was also lithely built, quite slender, and clad in a uniform different in design from Oryo'i's or Siaga's--hadn't Kevin said something about different styles for the genders? Maybe ranks too? Background black, panels of orangish red, accents of bright poison green. Past shoulder-length, slightly shagged hair a red that did not look humanly natural. Something about the uniform, that made him look more important than his subordinate--he had to be a high-ranking enemy officer...

He put his face only a matter of inches away from hers, his skin the same ghostly pallor as the other Invid, or like Kevin's after a few weeks in the winter. She cringed away from him, but her aching face was caught again in that deceptive vise of a grip. She was forced to look him in his.

Shkud chuckled, hearing a noise escape from her bruised lips.

His face was perfect.

No blemishes, scars, or other marks marred the smooth skin, not even the indication of beard stubble. The clean, perfectly proportioned features might have been mistaken for those of a Rennaisance angel's, if a little leaner and masculine, a little harder around the cheekbones. It was flawless and beautiful, even set in an unholy amusement.

But all this time, she was locked, frozen, like a rabbit, as she met his eyes in blind hypnosis.

There were no whites. The irises were a pure, glowing green, bisected in their centers by vertically slit pupils dilated in the dimness. They looked into hers with all the calm, uncaring intent of a viper's.

No angel's face, but perhaps Lucifer's.

Shkud, Kulagi, gave a laugh, dimly perceived through her din of fear.

"Who knows, human. I might even give you your own bowl as well." The elegant lips curved. "Shall we get on with our business, now?"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Whoooooofff!!!" Dennis grunted, as the sudden kick of the thrusters pressed him into the back of his seat, the Shadow Alpha ripping the wind less than five hundred yards off the ground. At this low altitude, air drag prevented the mecha from going supersonic, but the acceleration gees were considerable nonetheless. Behind him, the lieutenant could hear a muffled grunt as his copilot fought the force as well. Outside, it was still inky black, the snow going by too fast to see but still opaquing vision.

They screamed foward, night and Shadow system concealing them and their mission.

"It ought to take about an hour or so for us to get to the target hive, straight shot. Probably longer, though. We may have to set down and walk part of the way to avoid patrols."

Kevin grunted an affirmative. "I second that. Hi-ho-ing directly in is going to get us killed. We're going to have to get strategic. How do you think we ought to take that?"

Dennis was at a loss. "Ahem...I don't think I thought that far ahead." Kevin gave a sacrificial sigh. "I think, right now, it's definitely an improvisational arrangement."

"Translation: We get to it when we get to it."

"Bingo."

Kevin's voice cheered up. "I can deal with that." Zinnert grumbled. "Wanna few apple chips?" There was munching noises from the back seat. "I still have some left."

"O'Shea," Zinnert snapped, before remembering, "I don't think you quite understand that eating in the cockpit is--"

"I doubt, Dennis, that you're going to get my puke down your neck if you suddenly accelerate. The Regis made enhancements in us that allowed for high-speed dogfights. Best genetic stuff Earth has to offer. Or Optera." There was an ironic snort. "Besides, I'm starving."

"How can you--"

"Eat at a time like this? Simple. Haven't eaten anything since breakfast." The scout's voice trailed off meaningfully. "But now that we're doing something--"

"I'd rather not."

"Suit yourself. But we've shared canteens. If my spit was going to poison you, it's a few years late."

"You're disgusting."

"And you're an anal-retentive--"

"I know," Zinnert said tiredly. "But we get to it when we get to it."

"Yeah."

"I project we're going to get within fifteen miles of the place in the hour. I'm going to set down then, or whenever you pick up the first hostiles. My idea is to get within range of the hive in Guardian, and then monitor the area. And then..."

"We--"

"Get to it when we get to it."

"I think I'm beginning to like you. For once, you're having the same approach to life as me."

Zinnert began to laugh, slightly hysterically, and leaned to check his instrumentation.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Many miles back, in a snowstorm fortunately not strong enough to be called a true blizzard, two trails sprayed the thin white stuff into the frigid air, beginning a rushed trek in the wake of the Alpha. Like the Alpha, there was no measurable protoculture radiation for the Invid to track, but unlike it, their small size prevented easy visual identification.

There was no need to worry about refueling the fusion reactors; there was more than enough water lying around in frozen confection for the taking. The cold was grim, but not the icy bitterness that would later come as winter tightened its grip on the ravaged land, and the two riders were well protected enough in their armor, clothing and jumpsuits. Instrumentation kept them from getting lost in the waste of the old American Heartland, and the darkness that hindered their sight also was their greatest ally against the aliens that had taken the world it shrouded.

Heedlessly, they rumbled north at dangerous speeds.

Underneath one helmet, a pair of hazel eyes narrowed, intent.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda was shaking and she knew it.

She no longer cared about the fact, however. The hand rendering her head immobile was an entirely different matter.

"Where is your group located?"

She didn't answer. There was a light slap on her bruised cheek.

"Wrong answer, human. Where? To the north? The south? Elsewhere? I suppose I should add that currently we're near the remains of a human city called Lafayette. I understand the T'Sentrati, Mother blast their hides, wiped out a fair amount of the population. To the east?"

Amanda refused, but after repeating a few more directions, the Invid made a satisfied noise and ended. "Transparent creature."

Panic flared up, and Shkud laughed, the viper eyes narrowed in amusement.

"You are an entertaining little beast, aren't you? You might be worth something, after all."

Amanda kept her jaws locked so tightly that they were cramped. He was not torturing her, per se, not as much as she feared he would. He was striking her, but in a half-hearted manner. She wasn't speaking. Yet this being was still seeming to get information from her. How, she did not know. But something about those inhuman eyes in that human face was causing her guts to turn to water.

Siaga was nothing in comparison.

She was terrified.

"You might want to speak up. It could make things easier."

_No._

The questioning continued, with the constant sense of Oryo'i standing in the shadows nearby, the enforcers guarding them both. All the while, the demon eyes bored into hers.

"...I suppose your companions are similar natives of this planet, unless there's yet another settlement of those accursed T'Sentrati around that I haven't yet taken care of, or their mongrel whelps. Ah! A little response there? Might you even know one? This is most interesting."

Something penetrated Amanda's dazement.

_My god, he can't be--reading my mind? Reading something? Oh SHIT. Shit shit shit.... I'm sorry, Gerald._ Horror blanked out his next question.

_Damn you, Gwen, damn you and the horse you rode in on._

A blow brought her back to her senses. Blinking away the pain, she reeled as the Invid leader yanked her back upright. She could taste the heavy metallic salt of her own blood, and did not dare spit the taste away.

"I want you to answer, human. Any other allies around? One of those Terran Robotech filth from the Masters' world, or their Tiresian bootlickers? No? Maybe? Pity. It's a bit boring having to harvest Flowers for my Mother.

"What would be truly a wonder is if you'd actually known anything of certain ...traitors. Like that rutting bitch Sera or that idiot Ariel. To actually show inclination to mate with humans--disgusting!"

Anger came to the fore again, as she realized he had insulted two of the most revered names of the last war. They may have been Invid, but they were the reason why the Earth had temporarily gained some degree of peace. She kicked, and was hauled off the floor again, before being slammed back down.

"Angry, are you?" Growling, Amanda fought, but the next blow caused her to temporarily lose it. She came to consciousness again sniffing blood in her nose, woozy but still furious. The beautiful face with the green eyes regarded her in the same manner as she would have had a fly whose wings she was trying to pull off. Licking his lips, he reached for the zipper to her CVR jumpsuit. Before she could react, he had the suit partially open, exposing the coverall underneath. Horrified, she jerked away.

"So this disgusts you just as much as it does me?" Shkud mused. The eyes were narrowed, the pupils dilated. "You might want to talk, or I'll disgust you even more." There seemed to be not much disgust as he reached for the coverall zipper. Amanda whimpered, but refused to yield. He was breathing hard, a strange smile playing across his lips. "I wonder if it's true about this strange attractive force your kind seems to have for some Solugi..."

"My lord, this is not--" Oryo'i interrupted, alarm in her voice.

"Shut up!" he snapped. There was an indrawn breath of pain from the subordinate Invid. Amanda twisted, to no avail. "Hmm, I seem to recall an odd frissom--interesting word--from you when I mentioned Solugi just now..." The grasp was partially released. "But enough of that." A finger ran across his chin. "You've been quite productive, human. I might send you to an opredti farm after I'm done. It's the least I can do after you've been so obliging to me."

_Henderson, raving mad and wasted, writhing on her bed..._

"You seem not to like the idea. Ah, I remember. A few lunar cycles ago, I started programs in the tradition of the last occupation. A few of the first were over by the large river to the west. The humans proved to be quite productive--for a while. The Flower spores and the human physiology seem not to jibe well. Perhaps you met a few survivors in your exploits?"

Amanda's mind was blank, for a couple seconds.

Realization sank in.

Shkud's feline eyes widened, as he rose and looked on her.

Red blackened her vision, red like the pools of blood around the little corpses in the road, red like the flare of light behind her as she plunged into the underbrush... She did not move, but the bruised figure was shaking as though in palsy.

Somehow, the overwhelming tidal wave of knowledge did not sweep her away, slam her shrieking at his throat--too late for that. It built higher and higher, peaked, until she thought she must scream or go mad.

It solidified, hardened into something deadlier and icier than any killing weapon ever produced.

Her voice was distant, perfectly sane, and calm.

"I take it that was to scare me? You're wrong." The solidified ice of the emotion somehow cut the ropes of fear. "I was from one of those towns." In and out of a breath: "I'm going to kill you."

Shkud stared on, arms folded. He was impressed despite himself.

"I sincerely doubt you will get the opportunity. Oryo'i, return her to her cell. I have work to do."

Shkud thought, as the battered native was led off by a subdued Oryo'i; _ Most interesting. Will my suspicions be played out?_

Give a few days, and if not, well, Humans were sources of numerous uses, not all of them requiring that they be alive...

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Not much more," Dennis noted. "I'm giving it a minute or so before I bring her down." They had cut the VAF to a fraction of the original speed; now the waves of snow they were carving through were discernible. He cut it more, but not so much as to stall the mecha.

"I judge maybe twenty miles away myself," Kevin noted from the back. His voice seemed strangely distant. "Your best bet is to work in as far as you can, Dennis."

"You crazy? Patrols--"

Kevin's voice was lucidly calm. "I'll know them coming. Trust me."

Dennis was blank, then remembered. "Oh," was all he said.

He kept forgetting that whatever was in the back seat was one of the very aliens whom he had dedicated most of his adult life to destroying.

Swallowing, he eased it further in.

Kevin noted, "The thing is that once on the ground, god knows what sort of things and terrain'll be in the way. While we're still in the air..." He broke off abruptly, into dead silence, before speaking again. "Dennis? Get it down. Now."

Biting his lip, the second CO slowed, activated the transformation sequence, flipping the thrusters down into the feet and legs of gerwalk, the inertial jerking of the ceased foward movement dragging human and Solugi hard enough against the harnesses to bruise under the CVR. In twenty seconds, Dennis, praying as hard as he ever had, had found a narrowly open area among the trees and eased the mecha down with a scrape and a crunch of branches against the tough metal alloy of the Alpha's hull. It steamed a large radius underneath its still-glowing engines.

"Kevin?" he asked softly. It was a second before the back responded, now even more distant sounding than ever.

"Patrol of ten Attack Scouts...traveling...in surveillance in our direction. ETA judged two minutes."

Dennis looked over to the back; Kevin's eyes were closed, concentrating on something unseen. He shook his head when Dennis tried to attract his attention. "I'm...trying to track them...dammit. Without them finding _me_..."

Dennis whirled back to his still active console, his eyes going wide when he saw the ten telltale blips inching on an arc, almost over their position. Never before had he been so grateful the Alpha was Shadow. The wedge of enemy bogies blipped, touched their location...blip...blip...blip...and passed over, unmoving on their current course. He did not dare breathe until the last was out of the five-mile mark.

"Didn't see us," Kevin noted from the back seat in a much more normal voice. "We're okay for the time being."

"Jesus."

"You think that's bad? Quincy ranks in the all-time hall of fame of Belated Detections for me. Imagine waking up from a peaceful sleep and realizing there's a few clams on top of you ready to pay a house call."

"You mean you..."

"Oh yeah. There was a rude awakening for you."

"Well, I suppose I owe you one then."

"Make it a malt whiskey." Dennis snorted.

"Nice to know you haven't changed." he commented, receiving a miffed noise from the back.

"Well I could always start slobbering and eating poison ivy to celebrate my new status as Slug-Boy if you want. Let's get a move on, Dennis. We've only got a window of maybe fifteen minutes before the next sweep passes over."

The thrusters came to life again. "Correct. Keep your mind peeled."

"Gotcha, your holiness."

"Uh, 'Slug-Boy'?"

Kevin snickered.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Back to the front_

_You will die_

_When I say_

_You will die_

**--Metallica,** "Disposable Heroes"

She had started to shake again several dozen feet out of the chamber, the pain screaming down her swollen face. Mechanically, she zipped up her jumpsuit, not caring about the Invid guarding her. Her body was screaming for water. She licked her lips with a gummy tongue, coughing in dry barks, the taste of her blood foul in her mouth.

She did not notice the furrowing of the Solugi's pale brows. Oryo'i was still recovering from the mental lashing Shkud had given her when she'd protested. The look she turned on the human was speculative.

Halfway back, after Amanda stumbled unseeing and after they had traversed the lift shaft, the Enforcers halted her with claws on her shoulders, causing her to startle violently. She heard the pad of the humanoid Invid's feet go around her. There was a distant, dull clunk.

In a minute, one of her Enforcer guards handed her a black container of some ceramic material. Somethine sloshed as Mandy stared blankly at the proffered item.

"Take it," Oryo'i said. After a moment, Amanda complied, sniffing at the contents, and reaching in a tentative finger. Wetness touched her fingertips and she tasted it. Water. She did not think of its purity as she lifted it to her parched mouth.

She drank sparingly, watching to see that her guts did not rebel. It was room-temperature, but tasteless and clean, and went down like nectar. She emptied it, and the humanoid took it, replacing it back wherever it had been.

Then they moved again.

There was no response from the opposite cell when Oryo'i and the guards put her back in detention, the bars sliding and lighting back into place as they left. Perhaps Siaga was asleep, or she had already gone to meet her punishment, but the hallway was dark again.

Amanda sat down, and her mind blanked.

She did not know she had been whimpering like a kicked puppy until the silibant whisper from the other side brought her back to reality.

"I take it you saw him," Siaga noted. The energy bars' harsh light delineated her figure as she crouched near her own bars.

Amanda could not answer. Siaga waited for a second and continued. "You see now why I hate him so."

"He--he killed..."

"Burning Tzuptum," came the soft voice. "You are a survivor of his press moves?"

**"THE SON-OF-A-BITCH KILLED MY SISTER!"** Amanda shrieked.

Just as abruptly, before Siaga stopped trembling from that cry, the voice of the human was soft and shaking again.

"H-his eyes...I never knew Invid had those...those--eyes..."

No response from the condemned alien for a couple of minutes. Then:

"They did not. Not before the Queen-Mother created the Kulagi."

Blankly, Amanda asked. "The Kulagi? Isn't the name So--"

"For us. For me and that unseeing idiot Oryo'i. But for they..." The Invid trailed off. Finally, there was a sigh, and she spoke.

"I am already doomed, at any rate. And you--need distraction. Listen, Amanda Pierson, for what I am going to tell you goes back to the very reason my race has returned. For this alone, I would be sent to the Genesis Pits, but I have nothing left to lose."

As she spoke, some of the awkwardness in her words left.

"We chose of our own will to leave this place, years ago. The sole alternatives were to either destroy all life on this planet or to poison both our races with the Shadow that the accursed Robotech Masters seeded. This we all know. Our Mother chose to find another, uninhabited world, where we could harvest our Flowers in peace and avoid interfering in other species' lives.

"However, there was a problem with the world we chose. It was temperate, it had no intelligent species. But the Flowers were...slow...to catch on and grow. This is nothing unusual, but in this case we had millions of our people to feed on one world. Those of us in the scientist castes projected that with the slow growth rates of the Flower of Life, we would begin starving in a few of your months. We of the Solugi who have been transmuted are not as dependent on them, but the lower castes are a different story.

"We needed more, soon. But only two worlds in the known galaxy have had the Flowers grow on them readily. Our old homeworld Optera, now for all purposes sterile, and this world, your Earth."

"The Regis felt She had no choice. Desperation does interesting things. Until the new world had enough Flowers to feed the Invid, She decided that some of us were to return, to reseed the Earth with the spores, and to harvest enough Flowers and opredti--your protoculture--to keep us supplied. But she could not chance the possibiliity of having us driven off or rejected by you Humans. So we were armed and--measures taken--to ensure a steady shipment.

"Our Mother, though, could not be there--Her experiments in evolution and in finding the ideal form for our kind took up too much of Her time. And so..." Siaga's shadowed lip curled back. "The Kulagi."

"The Regis called together some of the most intelligent, cleverest, and strongest of we Solugi, and...changed them into what you saw. A further transmutation and refinement, into the Kulagi. They were designated as the ones to oversee this occupation. Thus, they have the eyes you saw, to designate their rank. And...more." She fell silent.

Amanda scrambled to understand the import. "You're meaning to tell me... they're the ones running things? Not your kind?"

A bitter bark of sardonic laughter. "Ah, Mother, how observant you are! If the Solugi were, do you think I would currently be awaiting my new existence as an iigai drone here?" Siaga got up and began to pace. Finally, she stopped, her sulfur-colored eyes squinting into the comfortless radiance of the energy bars.

"Once, we had been the crowning achievement of Invid evolution, Human. But no longer. Now, now we have to be crushed under the heels of the likes of _him_." Another accurate spit into the corridor. "Those trahls had power given to them--too much power. Now they deem themselves slightly below the Spirit of Light Itself and far above the rest of our race. I will not even go into the opinion they have of your kind. You have felt it.

"We were only supposed to feed our kind, at the outset, but now--I'm quite sure you realize that they've moved consideably beyond that. Having tasted the sweetness of the force given them, they wish more of it." Her voice grew bitter. "So much for the Shadow not touching us."

"What about--the Regis?" Amanda had stopped shaking; Siaga had, for an Invid, been remarkably good at her therapy.

A snort. "Our Mother is thousands of light years distant. The lower castes do not question policies, and none of we Solugi have been allowed to return since we came here. And I presume the Kulagi are quite selective on what they tell Her." Siaga slumped against her bars, lost in her own otherworldly reverie.

"Ah."

Her face was beginning to throb hurtfully. Reaction set in again, and she crouched, arms clamped around knees, shivering.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Morning limped into the murky soup of the overcast. The snow had let up except for sporadic flakes. Drifts of white lay here and there in the woods.

A foot destroyed one, as the metal crunched into the ground. It was followed by another, both supporting the weight of a Shadow Alpha. Currently it was in Guardian mode, crouched near the earth as it stalked foward a parcel of land at a time. It had been doing it for four hours now.

The woods gave to emptiness up ahead; the mecha seemed to further crouch, as though realizing what lay before it.

"There it is," Dennis whispered.

A couple miles of open space was in front of them. Beyond that lay the perimeter of tree-like "transmission towers" the Invid used in communications.

Beyond that lay the hive.

It was roughly shaped like a fat upside-down wineglass, the bulk of it in the "cup." Like with all Invid architecture, it would not have looked out of place on an ocean bottom, if it had been a couple of miles smaller.

Out of a hidden aperture in the structure, a flight of several Combat Troopers departed; by them Dennis was able to scale the size of the hive. He made a half-audible whistle. It might not have been the main Lafayette hive, but it was still large enough.

"When should we?" he asked.

There was a muddled reply, then Kevin fished himself out of whatever sea of alien communications he had been tapping. "Whenever, Dennis. Any time is going to suck, frankly. This is one of the stupidest moves I've ever head of."

"Well, it seemed to be the least idiotic of all the stupid alternatives."

Kevin said as thoughtfully as he could while distracted, "Well, yeah, trying to get in with only Cyclones is asking to get killed..."

"Only decent alternative we have, I think."

"Actually Max Sterling's dressing his Veritech in Zentraedi clothing has to take the cake..." the Invid mused.

"O'Shea..." It broke off in a strangled giggle. The two men proceeded to snicker helplessly.

After a bit, Kevin stopped with effort. "We can't piss around any more, Dennis. Now or never. It's getting too light."

"O'Shea--" Dennis started, then shrugged his armored shoulders. "Will getting my butt killed redeem myself?"

Kevin answered, "You're asking the wrong person. I'm in bad straits on the redemption thing. At least you know what you want to get redeemed to."

Dennis thought, then nodded, and began to flick switches and levers.

Kevin braced himself and, never one to reject native beliefs out of hand (especially Matthew's), muttered a Hail Mary.

Dennis bit his lip, as a low rumble began to shudder the craft.

"Here goes!" he shouted.

Slowly, the Alpha began to lift, as Zinnert began to execute the transmode

sequence.

The arms folded, retracted; the legs rotated and realigned themselves in the space of seconds.

In unison, the yell of challenge shook the air, as the last systems came to life.

The engines answered them, then roared.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_A white line blazing deep_

_Soaring through the wasteland we_

_Soaring birds now hunt the brow_

_As I thirsty gripped with hunger now_

_Clear sighted pain ends to win_

_The battle of the me so wafer thin_

_The line between the devil's teeth_

_and that which cannot be repeat_

--**Peter Murphy,**"The Line Between the Devil's Teeth"

Human and Invid were slammed back into their seats by the acceleration, as the thrusters belched into life, vomiting the Alpha foward like shot from a cannon. The force increased, until Zinnert had to crowd the darkness out of his vision. Behind him, he could hear a low grunt, as Kevin himself fought against the gees of acceleration.

Like an arrowhead, the Alpha screamed in hard and fast, skimming the ground, aiming at the heart of the hive.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_-Intruder alert!-_ the Hive Brain cried telepathically. _ -Terran craft heading in to hive area at high speed, Iigai and Torabs, scramble to prevent penetration!-_

A pale head shot up in shock, the orange eyes going wide as the information sunk in to Oryo'i. Then she cursed as much as she could in the limited linguistic field given her and was running for the mecha bay and her armor.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Dandelions: Chapter 9 of 9**

"Gnnngh," Dennis grunted, hauling on the roaring craft's direction as much as he could, as the hive filled his vision. He released the first set of missiles; they shot into the hive and the first few Scouts coming at him even as he left the next set of arms behind.

Kevin had been thorough; as he had claimed, a darkness of entrance was directly in front of them, opening to receive them. Zinnert cut the thrust, praying it was enough, in enough time in order to stop before they hit the first turn...

The organic gut of the hive opening loomed, then was around them, as Zinnert fought for manuverability.

Behind the Alpha, the protoplex barrier shimmered to life; much, much too late to do anything.

Zinnert flipped more controls.

"Watch out!" he shouted to the back. "This thing's going to Battloid!"

Even as he spoke, Kevin was getting the scare of his life.

The seats were shifting; rotating and simultaneously moving backwards in a stomach-turning motion. In a couple seconds, they were two meters upwards and vertically oriented, Dennis's seat below Kevin's. But that was not all...

Outside, the changes had not stopped at the shift in legs and arms; the cockpit had folded down into a chest, and a head had manifested from its old position underneath the mecha. Plating and geometries shifted in boggling ways, and where there had been a fighter was now a black Battloid Alpha, pounding forward into the enemy's heart.

There were thuds; Scouts clinging parasitically on it, choking its movement and prying with blind persistent claws at the hull and the fragile pilots within. It was the work of a couple seconds to detach and dispose of them with the Battloid rifle or a carefully placed stomp. More fell on the Alpha, but were shaken off, as Dennis broke for the first opening and dashed the mecha into a temporary clear.

Kevin shuddered with the feeling of each death, but his lips were drawn back in a snarl of rage, his mind ranging for more attackers.

"Dennis! Combat Troopers coming from the northwest corridor! Take the other one!"

"Thanks!" Zinnert panted. He had never been in the Invid's world so intimately before; the screech of claws on metal and the asymnetrical geometry of the hive was going to haunt him. Trusting in the rogue's advice, he ran the Battloid onward.

"Lift shaft should be down here. Just jump the sumbitch down; they keep the prisoners on the lowest level is my guess." The lieutenant acknowledged it: then they were again among the mindless, scarlet, clinging insanity of the hive swarm.

"Morons!" Kevin snorted. "They do that, the Troopers can't get us without hitting them."

Zinnert ignored it, swatting away the Scouts from the Alpha in a nightmare. Once again, they found a clear area, and a corridor ending in the shaft. Not even thinking, they plummeted into it. Dennis activated parts of the console; canisters were released, falling with and past them as they dropped.

Kevin raked his consciousness through the area, looking for more hostiles, and found--

"DENNIS! Wait! This one!"

Swearing, barely in time, Dennis got the Battloid's foot thrusters roaring, cutting the fall. They halted before the corridor Kevin indicated, and caromed through.

Neither noticed in the rush that the Scouts had left off their pursuit.

"What?"

"I felt a Solugi mind there--imprisoned. That's where they're keeping the prisoners..." He panted in the adrenaline rush, his mind racing. "That way, quick."

Zinnert guided the Shadow Alpha along, the shock of each footfall transmitting itself to the two men as they sweated. It was Kevin who realized first that there was something wrong.

"There should be more enemy. Invid are persistent; they don't decide to try later!"

"You ought to know!" Zinnert snapped. "Quiet, I'm--oh, Jesus Harold Christ there's---" Abruptly, the mecha backpedaled, but not before screens, eyes and Hivesong told Kevin the truth as it rose to view.

In front of them, the gray and orange Battloid loomed and lunged.

The crash was terrific.

The Alpha's servos screamed in mechanic agony as its left arm was nearly ripped off. Lights flared in the cockpit as Dennis, lip bleeding, grunted and fought to stay erect. If they went down, they were both dead.

Deadlock, as the Alpha fought against the Invid's weight; then, there was a microsecond of give, and the mecha lurched forward, lunging and punching with all its power toward the Assault Battloid's cockpit. The Invid mecha's arm raised to deflect the blow, but it was enough time for Dennis to regain his hold on the Alpha's autocannon. It was held awkwardly in the mecha's grip; Dennis did not need to see to know that the left shoulder was sparking from the initial assault. Gritting his teeth, he managed to switch hands and fired.

The Assault Battloid's shoulder took the hit and reeled. One of the shoulder-mounted cannons was now damaged at least.

Dennis took the opening to switch to weaponry. The TWR-25 cannons mounted on the head of the Terran mecha blazed; the Gamun's armor scorched as the lasers etched into it. Oryo'i was forced to fall back in order to recoup.

Then, the Terran mecha turned and ran.

"Coward!" she screamed, her eyes slitted with rage. Shkud would have her head on a pike... Snarling, she took off after it, forced to run in the confines of the passageway. Then she shrieked.

The Alpha bore down on her, full tilt; she did not even have time to get the cannons targeted before it was upon her.

With the battloid's arms protecting her vulnerable cockpit, she didn't see until too late the Alpha's leap. In a moment of disoriented horror, she did not quite realize the mecha was vaulting clumsily, using hers' shoulders as a pommel horse. Before comprehension fully hit her, the VAF-8R was gone down the corridor, moving in deper.

"JESUS." Dennis panted, sweat trickling into his mouth. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck.... Can't _believe_ I did that. Can't use missiles in this goddamned corridor."

"She's going to be after us," Kevin said, skin clammy with shock. "We can't take her on like this."

"Do you think I don't fucking KNOW that?" Dennis spat. He left off, concentrated on losing their opponent. "If she gets clams after us--"

"Get to a good area, Dennis. Let me out and at the Cyclone. Two's better than one, especially with it."

"What if..."

"No Scouts within the mile on our level. I think we've got enough time...I hope."

It was the longest two minutes of their respective lives. But around a corner, Zinnert managed to execute a transition to fighter. The canopy popped; Kevin was out even before the mechamorphosis was complete.

Gritting his teeth, the scout clawed at the compartment panel; after a sick second or two; it popped and the Ferret was out. Zinnert was barely back in Battloid before the thump of the Invid's treads heralded her arrival.

Trying to buy his companion time to unfold and mount the Ferret, Dennis charged her. He was at a disadvantage in close combat and knew it. Without missiles, all he had was the GU-25 and the head lasers; the Invid had plasma and particle beam cannons, even though one was incapacitated, and her mecha's servos were still intact. Dennis's impossibly executed leap had not helped the VAF's rent arm all that much.

He saw the remaining particle cannon swivel and target him; he dodged, fighting to keep enough of an opening to target her without her gaining a fix on him. He had learned enough from Matt's accounts of his clash with this particular Invid that she usually did not fire unless she was certain of making a hit.

Oryo'i, for her own part, was studying the Human mecha with narrowed eyes as she pursued it. Despite the damage she had already done to it, after the move the Terran had already managed she was not going to underestimate anything the Human might do. The human's teammates had already proven to be quite innovative if the situation pressed. It was fairly obvious, though, what he had come here for. Shkud seemed to have had a strategy he was not letting her in on.

_Fools! For one human female? Are they mad? Or stupid? Or **both**?_

Her forehead damp with very human perspiration, she moved in on the Alpha, dodging agilely the autocannon's shot. It took out a goodly portion of the hive wall behind her.

Now if only she could pin him long enough for the Iigai and Torabs to arrive, there might be some answers. She had reservations on killing the human outright; valuable information might die with him. Targeting the Alpha as it tried to circle around her, her eyes fixed on its knees. With that sort of mecha, immobilization would also mean destruction of any thruster capacity, preventing escape...

Oryo'i did not expect distraction. Her attention was broken as a yodeling figure in a Cyclone blazed straight at her. Before she could move, the human had streaked between her mecha's legs and according to her screens, was retreating out the back way. It began to curve back around...

_What? TWO pilots in the craft?_

An explosion shook her, hard; screaming in frustration, she realized the second beam cannon was now out of commission.

_Fool, fool, fool! What is the matter with you, Oryo'i?? You--_

She no longer noticed the Cyclone; it was the lesser of the two dangers. Angry, she plunged after the Alpha.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_What the hell? There ain't no guards..._

Gwen could not follow this train of thought. Already fatigued by the half-suicidal journey of a couple hundred miles, she was plummeting into the very innards of the hive.

No sooner than they were on firm footing, they cut the power; no need to attract hostiles with protuculture output. The Super Saber up ahead was already running into the hive. Losing Lieutenant Ulm was the last thing she wanted; swallowing hard, she followed his lead.

_No Scouts, no Troopers, no nothin'. Sure, patrols, but you'd think they'd be after us after we'd got this far._

Maybe...Maybe they already... Gwen bit her lip, the roiling in her gut not completely from the fear of being in the enemy's territory.

She hadn't meant for it to get this far...

Angry at herself, she changed that.

No, she had. _A kid whose only wrong was to get in the way of me... and I let her get..._

_God. What have I become?_

_Did it start the day those Enforcers picked me up on the streets of Louisville? _

_And the worst part--_

Matt hadn't even shouted. Just a sad, disappointed look that was in itself worse than any thrashing her mama had ever given her...

_What the hell have I turned into? Whatever it is, it's never gonna get trusted by the team._

_Ever. Again._

They were huddled in a niche in the wall now, a half-mile in that had been completely undisturbed.

Ulm was speaking quietly. "If we'd been the first ones to penetrate, they'd have been on us like--pardon the analogy--ticks on a dog. There's been no interference so far."

Gwen nodded. "My guess--the hive's stuff is concentrated on another mecha that's a lot more of a threat. Guess."

A terse nod in return.

"We've gotta find them, Matt."

"Either them or Mandy. But Amanda at least'll be stationary, and she has no way to fight back. The others'll keep until we can get to them. Keep down for a bit, until I confirm that the hive traffic's really not here."

Gwen complied.

"You're...angry, aren't you?" she said after a couple of minutes. He hadn't spoken much during the trip.

There was a pause.

"I can't lie, Gwendolyn.

"Yes, I am angry. You betrayed a trust we placed in you. But that's past. What's done is done. We can only migitate it now, not reverse it. If only you'd--" he broke off.

"What?"

"Understood the reasons for it. But no... That was impossible..."

"What?"

"Your attempts on Kevin didn't help him a lot. He's got problems more serious than you realize. You're better off not knowing what they were. And the Invid don't need to know those liabilities."

"Kevin?..."

"Enough of that, Gwen. The Invid'll find us if we don't keep moving."

The two moved slowly, further into the dark.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Kevin accelerated his bike, dashing back between the Gamun's legs as its pilot again turned attention toward the Alpha. An H-90 blast to one did nothing much physically, but it at least took away her concentration for a second, enough for Dennis to get in another shot. He circled around the leg as Oryo'i attempted to stomp him out of the picture, hassling her like matador to a technological bull.

_C'mon, you... Leave Dennis alone--your _real_ gripe should be with me... sister._

He had no idea about the ammo Dennis had left, but after that initial discharge on the rush, it could not be all that much. And they were hard to come by. How many invaluable resources had they used to rescue one person?

_We're crazy. Nuts. Absolutely---WOOOLLLPPH!!!!_

He should have remembered that Assault Battloids had plasma cannons in both arms.

The Cyclone's mechanics shrieked in torture as the blast went home. The left arm--the one he had forgotten about being armed--had aimed and fired almost as an afterthought, while her concentration remained on Dennis.

Control lost, Kevin realized what was about to happen, and kicked.

The Ferret did not even reach the wall before it exploded, its systems destroyed by the hit.

He landed hard; rolled from the Battloid's treads even as he tried to get his breath back; bruised but no worse thanks to his CVR. The Invid mecha returned its full attention to Dennis, who had had some time to recoup--but not nearly enough.

_Can't stand by and watch him buy it...if he does, I'm done too..._

The Alpha had managed to get out of its pin against the wall, and the black and the orange-and-gray forms were again circling, waiting for openings. Kevin threw out a mental net. What it retrieved signaled that the Scouts for some reason were still trying to get down, but with no success. Quite a few were otherwise involved; and then Kevin realized those canisters Dennis had discharged on the way down...

Lures of live protoculture and explosives. So that was what he had been messing with back at base outside the Alpha. Not only a load of false leads for the simple-minded Scouts, but possibly damaging as well. That Sentinels War experience--Dennis had learned some interesting tricks.

_Dennis, you sneaky, sneaky son of a bitch..._ The renegade would have laughed if he had time. But the two were locked in combat, the slightest thing could tip their even balance...His mind scrambled. Why had she been down here? Weren't prisoners normally on the lower level... Shocked, he remembered that the plans weren't being followed here. They were up a couple of levels , near, or at... If she had been out of her mecha when the alert came through... It might be... It might be that...

Kevin realized that he was not completely helpless. If he were lucky, there was still a mecha that he could use.

Whirling, he edged past, and ran.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Dennis did not even notice Kevin's movement. He was much too busy keeping

himself alive.

The Invid was far more talented than initially noticed; it was just a matter of time before she wore him down, and the transmutee obviously knew it. She was not even using her plasma cannons, apparently saving them for the coup de grace. Dennis tasted blood, lunged and struck, meeting only air as the alien mecha dodged, then moved in again. The human had only lost more ground instead, and he did not even have the time to curse before they began their circle again.

Oryo'i was not Shkud; there was no pleasure in her expression as she looked for a way to disable the Alpha quickly, except maybe in doing a job well. She very much wanted to take the Human alive, for he might yield up information that would corrobate his female companion's. And there was his companion, who, if not dead, was another possible useful source. Although, there had been something about the other...

This time, she kept her presence of mind as the Human's autocannon attempted another shot at her, the blast going wild. The Alpha could not have had much left, and she was as aware as Dennis that in close quarters, it was she who still had the advantage.

He was fast enough to move his leg before the plasma cannon went home, but the shot still connected enough to transmit up to the pilot, and he made a incoherent yell of despair.

_Great, Amanda prisoner, Kevin probably dead, and I'm about to become slug dinner. How the mighty hath fallen. Of course, the Regent's troops weren't that bright..._

_As the REF is, I'm no example either..._

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The hive floors thudded as footfalls, far more rapid than most of the Malorosm could make them, clunked their way inward, their owner pushing them as fast and hard as possible.

The corridor opened into an enormous hangar, dimly glowing with hive biolumescence, puffs of steam escaping from whatever passed for Invid hydraulic powering. It could have easily housed one of the smaller Human star vessels, a Garfish perhaps. Instead, in the dimness, many smaller somethings stood, the hazy light flickered on slick surfaces.

The footsteps and ragged breathing wended its way amongst them, and halted.

Then, they picked up, acclerated, and suddenly stopped.

A split-second later, there was a clang, and a pained grunt of wind knocked out. There was a scuffle, as if someone were trying to haul themself up, and then a second, sudden, final clang.

Half a minute later, one of the metallic objects in that hangar stirred.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Matt, where are you?" Gwen called out. Any reply that might have been made was drowned out in static. She heard Invid mecha coming her way yet again, and neccessity prevented her from continuing.

And it had all started the minute they had first heard the Enforcers coming down the hallway. Two humans in Cyclone armor were no match for three Enforcers and six Sentinels, especially in their own territory. She had dodged for one side, the lieutenant for the other. Unfortunately, in Ulm's case, the Enforcers had decided to turn down the side-passage he had chosen, and he had to run to avoid being found. Further attempts to find him had been foiled. They were probably both hopelessly lost by now, a fact Gwen grimly tried to ignore.

If she did not, her already iffy mental state would be done for. The memories...

_The Enforcer, the needle that took her blood, the small bloody patch on her arm where her skin had been razored off, and the countless hours of terror, want, and cruelty by Invid and human alike... _

That was what she had given Amanda.

Gwendolyn supposed her own current situation was nothing better than what she had deserved for that.

She sidled further down the passage she had been in since she had been separated from Matt. She had gotten quite a good practice at it during the past half-hour. When the passage suddenly opened into blackness, she almost fell backwards.

Two seconds later, she almost did it again. It took that long for her to realize what the room contained.

_Sweet Jesus..._ she cursed softly to herself.

She knew for a fact that the humanoid castes spent much more time out of their battloids than the other breeds of Invid. For the first time, she now knew where they actually put that mecha in their down-time.

She was in a mecha bay. Its roof disappeared in the darkness, but she strongly suspected that mobile apertures in the ceiling allowed for easy exit from the hive for pilots. There was only a couple of those Battloids around; the rest either hadn't yet been assigned for use by lower Invid, or, in the case of the dark, empty Enforcer armor, was further proof that even the Scientist-caste Invid themselves liked an unsuited stroll every so often. Shaking, she wandered in further among them, trying to find a place to hide, her H-90 up and despite her terror icily still.

She took in a rapid breath.

Something had just entered inside with her.

Crouching, she hid behind an Enforcer shell as best as she could, tasting her own sweat. Through her helmet, she heard slow footfalls, moving at an unhurried pace.

_Matt?_ Gwen almost called, and then realized that even on these floors, CVR boots made a distinct thump. It was completely absent from this new arrival.

Like countless other humans before her, she thought the thud of heart on ribcage would give her away as the footfalls came closer, homing in on her. Or so Gwendolyn thought, before her eye caught the large space beyond her position. It was significantly empty. Suddenly, there was a gasp, and the footfalls picked up, to an almost run, before stopping less than ten feet away from where Gwen was. She could hear breathing, and then a series of shocked, wordless murmurs, all of which seemed to be in a masculine baritone. Then there was a pad of feet, circling the open area.

No second doubts now; she had only a matter of time before she was found.

In one swift motion, she was out from behind the Enforcer and pointing the H-90 at his head.

"Okay, buster! Move, and I'll--"

The silhouette yelped and whirled. Gwen was put off by the other's speed; before she realized it, he was trying to rush her.

Coldly, she aimed and fired.

There was a scream of pain as the Gallant shot burned his left bicep. In a second, she had the newcomer spraddled against the nearest wall, the muzzle readied again at his skull.

"Don't move, " she whispered. "Whoever you are, I got a pistol aimed point-blank at the back of your head. I got a rabbit running full speed once at two hundred yards off, so if you move, honey, you better tell me which part of your skull you don't need. All right, what the hell are ya doing in here?"

In what lighting there was, she could make out that her captive was several inches taller than her--forcing her to raise her gun arm--had straight light mid-back-length hair, and a squarish, somewhat Slavic face, currently contorted in fear and in pain from her hit. She could smell the stink of burnt flesh, and an acrid odor underneath it that betokened something slightly unusual about the quality of the prisoner's physiology.

The chitinous light armor he was wearing left no doubt to Gwen who--or what--she had taken captive.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_This is it,_ Dennis thought, as the Assault Battloid moved in cautiously.

His autocannon was empty, and there was no other way he could move. The problem was, he knew it. He just wish the information would sink in to his rival and she would act on it. Watching her sidle up to him was almost funny, in a perverse way. At least he seemed to have acquitted himself well...

Oryo'i licked her lips.

_Is this another ruse?_ she thought. _ The Human's doing nothing at all... It has to be another trick._

Slowly, she raised her Gamun's arm and the plasma cannon in it, intending to do a final disable on the other mecha before its pilot could change his mind.

Zinnert, calmly watching his death coming, caught a flicker of movment out of the corner of his eye. Automatically, his eyes flickered over and then he realized he wished he hadn't.

Another Assault Battloid had arrived at last to reinforce Oryo'i. This one, a mecha in spring green with construction-orange trim, was fully armed and fresh.

Dennis now realized that the dignity of death was denied him. With a sinking heart, he watched as they prepared to take him prisoner.

At that same time, Oryo'i caught the new Battloid's image in her rear screens.

_What?_ She was incredulous. This had not been planned.

She reached out, and gave an incoherent cry of shock.

_WHO'S in there??? It's not--_

The mentality in there was not the one she expected, was not any she had encountered in the hive or Shkud's service. Though she could feel the pilot's presence sharply, for one disoriented moment she doubted whether the pilot was

even Invid.

And yet--and yet... Somehow, she almost knew... Her cannon sagged.

She failed to realize that moment of utter confusion had been a moment far too long for Dennis.

"Now!" he shouted, lunging foward, hoping for enough clearance, firing his last two missiles as he did so.

The projectiles shot out from behind the Alpha, curled foward into the gray Invid mecha, and detonated.

The explosions hit the Battloid in the right side and left knee--the combination knocking her to the left, even as the knee gave out from underneath the other missile's punishment. Gracefully, its pilot still stunned, it pitched over and lay inertly.

Oryo'i heard the dull smack of her own head as it collided with the side of her cockpit, and then there was only darkness.

Clammy from his own reaction, Dennis whirled to take on the other--

"Hi!" the familliar voice chirped over the tac net. "Fancy meeting you like this!"

Dennis clawed incoherently at his radio. "_What_?"

Staring, his brown eyes tracked from the fallen Oryo'i to the green Invid mecha.

It raised an arm and wiggled its claws at him.

"K-kevin?" he stammered.

"In the mecha, so to speak," came Kevin's ironic voice over the net. "Do you think this is my color? And is the precise term for this "Gamun-jacking?""

"Whatever you like, Kevin," Zinnert said faintly. "Whatever you like."

"C'mon," Kevin said, awkwardly turning. "We've got to get to the cells quickly. I'll lead."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

"Took your what?" Gwen hissed in shock.

"Someone took my mecha."

The prisoner whispered this, feeling the chill of the Terran weapon against his head, the English coming hard to him. The gun barrel did not so much as shift a hair. Gwen's eyes were wide in blank astonishment at this frankly unique piece of news, but she did not allow it to break her concentration.

"This is somethin'. And if I even catch you looking like you're gonna mind-call your friends, you better kiss your head goodbye." The male Invid did not even twitch, only his mint-green eyes blinking. He seemed to be taking the threat with some consideration.

"I swear I will not, on my honor as a child of the Regis," he said, still tense around his nose with pain. "You have me at advantage." His eyes blinked in consternation. "Why would anyone want my Gamun?"

"Like Mount Everest."

"What?"

"It was there, whatever you are."

"My name is Miragai. Please, let me off this wall. I swore an oath."

"Fine lot of good it'll do me the human when my back is turned." Her arm was beginning to hurt; she obliged him so she could train the Gallant down between his shoulderblades. Now that the light fell more directly she could make out that his hair was an orangish-streaked blond and that his uniform was in a bright green-and-orange scheme. He showed no inclination to try her, but she kept her pistol at ready. "What were you doing in here--uh, Miragai?" she demanded.

"What are YOU doing in here, Human?" he shot back, then hissed in pain as she yanked on his wounded arm, reminded that it was she with the armanents. "I was alerted to a--disturbance in the hive and came here to collect my mecha, which is obviously absent. You were here instead."

"Them's the breaks," she said shortly. "Walk before me and keep your hands at your sides. I have something to take care of. And then, we are gonna leave."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Siaga looked up, the white-streaked red of her hair falling back to reveal her face, eyes wide. Regardless of race, expressions of shock seemed to be universal. Her lemon eyes flickered back and forth and widened. Abruptly, she was on her feet.

"Human!" she hissed.

The opposing cell's incumbent did not seem to notice or move her fetal curl on the floor; asleep or worse, the Invid did not know for certain.

"Amanda," she tried again. "Listen."

Amanda did hear that but was choosing not to acknowledge; trying seemed to be too much or a trial. Siaga persisted, for the sudden painful feeling she was experiencing... Was this what Humans called "hope"?

Amanda still refused to notice, the physical and emotional trauma occupying her attention seemed more important. But, then, something else began to impinge on her narrowed eyes-closed perceptions.

_Voices?_

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Elsewhere, in a room unoccupied due to to the distractions of previous events, a hand reached out, its owner surveying a liquid-crystal display. It read: 000:02:00:00. The hand reached out, and with a quick, decisive flick, tapped a button.

Unstoppably, the numbers began to tick down.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The malachite-armored figure plunged ahead with intent accuracy, the olive-drab lagging a foot behind as they dashed through the corridor. They had had to leave the mecha behind; this passage was too small.

"There! Another hundred feet!" Kevin panted. Dennis acknowledged and fought to keep up with the rogue's mad dash. Kevin scanned the corridor. He reached out, to the mind he had only glanced on earlier, that had given him a hint on where to go.

_Is anyone there?_ he asked.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_What?_ Amanda thought. The curl of her position was broken, as she

abruptly brought her head up, eyes wide.

_**NO.** Oh god, don't torture me like this. I'm hallucinating._

_They can't be voices._

_Not in English. Real English._

_Not..._

She got on her knees, ignoring the pain from her battered frame, and then her feet, blinded by the energy grid. Across the way, Siaga was laughing, an unprecedented noise. Most shockingly, it sounded human and joyful.

"Human! Your kin is rescuing you!"

"No..."

"True!"

Footfalls pounding towards them, the distinctive clunk of CVR armor, and shrieking in surprise, she recognized the voices. It can't have been...

Two familliar figures eclipsed her vision. Even as she was lurching foward, one stopped, as the other fitted a barrel to an H-90. A second later, the light grid flickered out.

"Kevin...Dennis..." she cried, tears running down her face.

"Amanda!" the second CO shouted. "Stand back, and guard your face." She went against the wall and crossed her arms over her head automatically. She shuddered at the deafening roar, her ears ringing with the aftermath. Her eyes opening again, she saw a gaping hole where the hated ceramic bars had been.

Somehow, she lurched out, and was then again imprisoned in a pair of armored arms. She was completely immobilized by the crushing grip and did not even care, for she knew whose it was.

"Oh shit...your face--" Kevin murmured, still panting. "What did they do to you?" A gauntleted hand cupped her aching cheek with fumbling care, but she did not respond, her face pressed into his breastplate as she shook convulsively. "Easy..."

"We have to get out, O'Shea!" The rogue mentally kicked himself awake and remembered, beginning to draw Amanda along.

Siaga's laugh turned into a yelp of surprise. "Release me! Please!"

When Dennis seemed to hesitate, Amanda whispered. "Do it. She's going to get de-evolved."

Siaga was already protecting her own exposed skin as Zinnert aimed at the edge of the cell. There was a dazzling blast of light as the ceramic and wall splintered under the attack. Siaga needed no prompting to dash through the remnants, her peppermint hair flying. "Where?" she asked her saviors.

"We've got to get to the..."

There was a sudden click, causing all four's heads to shoot up, eyes wide.

A Sentinel stepped into the passageway, rifle trained on them, behind which were several other Sentinels and Enforcers. On the other side, yet more Invid filled the space, all weapons aimed at rescuers and prisoners alike.

They were effectively surrounded by more than a dozen of the aliens.

Through the ranks stepped an armored Oryo'i, helmet off, rifle also up. Her expression was tired and resigned.

"I wouldn't think so. I've got other plans," a soft voice drawled. It was not hers.

In the dead silence, another figure stepped out from between the ranks. The four took in the scene; then, there was a muffled obscenity from Dennis, combatting with Amanda's terrified mew. Shkud stood there, enjoying himself, letting the captives take in the full impact of his appearance. He began to inspect his nails as he began to speak again.

"You know, you really were quite obliging. I'm amazed at how gullible you apes can be. Do you really think I'd have allowed that female to live if I didn't have something in mind?" The slitted, feline eyes narrowed in amusement. "My thanks to you," he said to Siaga, "Solugi. A pity that you didn't realize that I could remain an observer in your mind and not make myself known to you. It seems my timing was just perfect."

"You _bastard_!" Siaga shrieked. "You iigaari-witted--"

Shkud's eyes narrowed. "Shut your prattling, Condemmed." Siaga wailed and doubled over, clutching her head. The others, frozen, did not move to help her. Coolly, the dominant Invid went on.

"As I was saying, I had something in mind. It went off even better than I planned. Not only did I get another human possibly amenable to persuasion in my hands, I got the actual reason for my inquiry." The emerald eyes focused on the bright green figure standing frozen there, its arms still wrapped around the quaking figure of the blond human.

"You were always _such_ an idealistic fool, Kayagh."

Oryo'i visibly started, causing a low chuckle to rise in his throat. "What? You didn't even recognize your former research partner, Solugi? I'm surprised. Then again, I suppose wallowing in filth as he's been doing can mask an identity."

"It...was...before we were transmuted," she said distantly.

"You, Shkud," Kevin managed at last, "were always _such_ a smug asshole."

"Ah, Kayagh, but who's got the weapons aimed at them?"

"I'm trying to think of a creative way to say, "drop dead,"" the renegade said politely, "and I'm completely failing."

"But you see," Shkud whispered, "You, Kayagh, are going to wish you could drop dead."

Dennis and Kevin stared at each other, then released their holds on their H-90s. Shkud looked pleased. "Oryo'i, Malar, strip them and search for hidden weaponry." Looking ill, she did so. Amanda was forced away from Kevin and over to the side; she placed a hand on the agonized Siaga's shoulder in a comforting manner, and found her hand over Amanda's, squeezing hard.

"Forgive me," Siaga whispered. "I had no idea why he had placed you near--"

"It's not your fault," the human managed. Over to the side, clatters rose, as the CVR hit the ground.

"Good try," Kevin said. "It might have worked, Dennis." He felt the hands of the loyalist Solugi patting him down for hidden weaponry, now that he was reduced to the basic Elms coverall.

Shkud said sweetly off to the side. "Not with my--"

"Shut up, Shkud. I wasn't asking you," Kevin said flatly. "By the way, what's with the new vogue in eyes and height? Those must've been some growth hormones the Regis gave you."

Suddenly Kevin stiffened, his breath catching, as a white-hot needle stabbed into his mind, and behind it, a sullen power that made his guts go cold.

There was only one contact in his experience that had been more powerful, and that was that of the Invid Regis.

_This is what,_ a voice cooed in him. Shkud's all right--but much stronger. And with a swollen, arrogant corruption that was a perverted form of the consciousness Kevin had once known. A mental giggle followed on the heels of that, and Kevin realized that somehow, some way, he was following Kevin's very thoughts. Slowly, the presence withdrew, leaving the renegade Solugi panting and trying to ignore the fact that most likely this was only the slightest taste of what probably awaited him.

_Spirit of Light, what had Shkud become?_

That one mockingly indicated his own figure with a sweep of his hand. "Behold, Kayagh, the new pinnacle of Invid evolution. But you won't have the pleasure for long."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Head like a hole_

_Black as your soul_

_I'd rather die_

_Than give you control_

--**Nine Inch Nails,** "Head Like A Hole"

Dennis was next to the pale-haired Invid. With a flick of his eyes, he noted her set, tense expression. It seemd that at the least, she was not pleased about something, and Dennis could take a few guesses. For all the trouble this woman had caused them, the discontent was plainly obvious.

As had happened time and time again in the course of the wars ever since Maximillian Sterling's fateful encounter, he was also realizing that the enemy could also be, in her own way, beautiful.

This thought took a distant second to the main business occupying his mind: the future was bleak indeed, insofar as they had any. Compared to Kevin, though... The figure in front of him was rigid; Dennis could see the periodic shivers quiver through the scout's frame.

_Anathema to the collective,_ he remembered Kevin saying. Compared to the magnitude of Kevin's actions, his and Amanda's roles were just so much small potatoes. _And if the punishment were to fit the crime..._ Dennis shuddered. There were a few things worse than death; considering the tall, red-haired humanoid with the inhuman eyes, he would probably try all of them on Kevin.

_You stupid bastard,_ he thought of Kevin, grieving. _ What made you think you had to join us and spend all those years hiding your nature? Look at what we've given you in return. Were we that attractive to you?_ He flinched in pain; the Sentinel pinning his arms had decided to tighten the grip of its claws. The red-and-pink Invid woman off to the side was panting in stress; he looked over and tried to give her a comforting glance, which was a bit of a joke considering the situation. She did not respond, her head drooping in exhaustion and despair. He could not see Amanda; but periodic whimpers from near his locale sounded like hers. From the looks of the enormous bruises on her face and neck, she had received her fair share of the mutant Invid's tender attentions.

Kevin tested the restraints pinning his arms, and winced. The Enforcers had placed his wrists in cuffs set into the wall, effectively immobilizing him and leaving his body wide open. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

"Well, Kayagh, how do you like the accomodations?"

"Well, Shkud, I certainly didn't know you were into BDSM," Kevin retorted, attempting a mocking tone overshadowed by the shake in his voice. "Especially not with other males. You learn more every day about the people around you."

"This was a gift, dear Kayagh. I had an impression from your companion that one of your like was coming, and I wanted to plan a...reception." Kevin pulled again and jumped, his eyes widening. Shkud looked on with interest, hands on hips. "I see you've found that pressure on the anchors activates an electrical charge. Do you find it of interest?" He tilted his head, raising his eyebrows. "I've always wanted to do this sort of experiment." The look in Kevin's eyes was not translated into words, but Shkud laughed nonetheless.

"I'm quite sorry, I don't think that's wise. I'm too valuable a resource to the Queen-Mother."

Kevin deliberately yanked on the restraint; this time the shock made him cry out, and the two female Solugi jerked in empathic unison. Shkud laughed again, and the renegade's eyes widened in understanding and horror.

"You are the most disgusting piece of _shit_ it's ever been my displeasure to meet, Shkud," Kevin growled hoarsely. "The idea of you enjoying the feeling of my pain, reflected to _you_--"

The green, slitted eyes narrowed, and the mock-humor was gone. Kevin stood as high as he could as the Kulagi stalked nearer with fluid, inhuman grace, until the two were less than three feet apart. Shkud still stood some inches taller than Kevin, and he had to lean down.

"And you wonder why, Solugi?

"You disgust me. Granted, you Solugi were flawed. You forsake the collective because of some superficial--resemblance--with the animals on this planet... And to even become like them! Madness! Is it any wonder we were given the power on this occupation? You are not even worth crushing under my heel, trahl.

"I'm going to see you beg for death, Kayagh. And I am going to make your companions watch--especially that female..."

"Like hell!" Kevin shouted in fury.

The blow rocked Kevin back against the wall, tugging on the restraints again, arching him with agony. Shkud tsked. "Not nice to provoke me like that. After all, I need you...recognizable." Kevin recovered, his eyes blazing. From where they were, his companions could see a trickle of dark green trailing out of the corner of his mouth.

The renegade's reaction to the comment was self-evident, as the Kulagi began to laugh again, full-throated this time. Kevin, trembling in rage and terror, looked over to the three held by the Sentinels, and closed his eyes. Then he seemed to make a decision, even as his interrogator forgot to inquire his mind as he savored his triumph.

The blob of green-tinted spittle hit Shkud dead square in the face, cutting off his gloating.

The eyes went glacially cold, and the face contorted in rage.

Silently, a hand went up, and Shkud stared at the results wiped onto his

fingers.

"You DARE..." Shkud said silibantly.

The Kulagi's eyes narrowed. A flicker of something metallic was in one hand as he darted it forward.

Kevin's scream of agony shrilled.

So did Amanda's.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Hey man, how will you feel_

_When all you have and all you own_

_Is your only true friend_

_When above you in the firmament_

_Flow the blood of the prophets_

_Out of your reach_

_From your aching speech_

--**Peter Murphy,** "The Line Between the Devil's Teeth"

A searing, acidic weight crushed his thoughts even as the blade went to the hilt in his shoulder, slamming into his consiciousness like a tsunami. He fought helplessly, as the mass of the Kulagi's hate began to knife memories, emotions, thoughts and knowledge from him. Paralyzed by the double mental and physical attacks, Kevin writhed helplessly as he began to be picked apart from inside. But somehow, he kept fighting...

_Where did he get that power?_

Suddenly, he saw himself as how Shkud saw him, and the attack left him reeling again. Craven, cowardly, disobedient, traitorous, and weak, a betrayer of all the Invid was, a being refusing to see his place in the Hive and properly adhere to the ordained nature of things, and with nothing of Shkud's power. And to even associate with the vermin who infested this world--as if they bore any more resemblance to them than in appearance! What an utterly debased creature he was, so fouled he had no right to even the term of Solugi.

Kevin shuddered in grief, made all the more painful by the fact it partly contained the truth. Shkud reveled in his power as it squashed the helpless psyche again, and he who had once been called Kayagh began to surrender to the pain and despair from which there was no relief. He was nothing, a mere, half-completed shadow of the grandeur that was Kulagi.

And yet, a small, angry, and entirely human voice inside retorted:

_Grandeur? This--is **grandeur?**_

In his mind, a soft voice spoke, as Miranda read a book, years ago. _"I may speak in the tongues of men and angels, but if I have not love, I am no more than a blaring trumpet or clanging cymbal..."_

The Solugi's pain-transfixed thoughts rallied, and began to push back. There was momentary surprise from the Invid torturing him. The thoughts were coherent and determined, even in hurt.

_I may be weak, Shkud, I may be a coward, I may be a traitor, but you have done nothing for all your power, except destroy, and hurt, and kill, and torment, you dog. You're nothing, you bastard. Nobody'll weep for you, when you're gone. I think more of these people--_people_ you bastard--than you will ever understand, or ever be capable of understanding. I think of them far more highly than I will _ever_ think of you. You aren't even worth my consideration._

There was a blanked moment of incredulity, as the Kulagi's ego struggled at the concept of a mere Solugi thinking less of him than a human. Then, a venomous tide of rage scalded Kevin/Kayagh's mind again. Ouside, he could hear ribs break, as Shkud's fists pummeled into his sternum. He could feel the electrical surges spasm his muscles as he involuntarily tried to protect himself.

Light flared as he opened his eyes to Amanda screaming in horror.

"Quiet her!" Shkud snarled, his face barely human anymore, a transparent mask to the nature undeneath.

Oryo'i had her arms wrapped around her torso armor, a line between her pale brows. She stared at him with incomprehension. "My lord--he is transferring his pain to me..."

"Shut the human up or by the mother YOU will feel it!"

The pain nearly blacked himself out, but he managed to catch Amanda's eyes; she stopped screaming, her eyes wide and dry.

"Quit picking on the animals, Shkud! You said it first." Kevin felt a cough burble up; bringing with it the fermented taste of his own blood. More than ribs broken--even the action of clearing his lungs made the edges in his vision go dark from the unbelievable pain. "Scared somebody might hear?"

Oryo'i shuddered. Kevin sent her a desperate thought.

_Oryo'i, this is what you're serving under! Do you want this monster to be running your life?_

_Kayagh, you are the one who erred!_ Oryo'i tried censure, but it rang patently false, and he could hear the sickness she felt at what was happening to him.

Was he truly broadcasting his pain that wide?

A momentary glimpse of himself out of her eyes; he looked a sight...

_**LISTEN, damn you!** It can't go like this forever! It'll be **you**, someday!_

Shkud was turning back to him. But he knew Oryo'i had heard him...

Shkud pulled out the scalpel from where it was imbedded in Kevin's shoulder, making the renegade almost faint from the pain--but sagging on the anchors would electrocute him... Fresh wet warmth trickled down his shoulder and chest, soaking into his coverall. But Kevin had had enough time to partially recoup... He seemed to be observing it from a far-distant perspective, the pain strangely diconnected as somehow, someway, he managed to take on even now the detachment of his zazen practice. The Kulagi's mind clawed at him and could find nothing more than surface purchase at first.

_Give, you offal! GIVE! _ the adder-like hiss of Shkud's thoughts coated his mind.

Kevin complied. He gave, but it was not what Shkud wanted.

_The flight of a killdeer, the glow of sunlight off of dandelions, Malcolm's and Sherry's improvised waltz to a sixty-five year old tune... _ Ruthlessly, Kevin rammed them down one after the other, even as the weakness from the blood loss began to set in...the very humanity of those thoughts leaving nothing that Shkud wanted to understand or comprehend, a constant taunt against a being who considered the race less than nothing.

If he was lucky, it would enrage the Kulagi so that he would be killed--or die--before Shkud got what he really wanted.

In the concrete world, Shkud, his eyes dilated until they were merely emerald rims surrounding abyssal black centers, wiped off the blade and almost daintily began to cut.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

After the second or third incision, Amanda and Dennis could no longer bear to look. The Sentinels' hold on them prevented them from covering their eyes but they both tightly squeezed them shut. It did nothing to block their hearing. And they heard every moment.

By this point, Shkud had decided to turn off the electrical charge. It was no fun if the prisoner's sagging killed him before Shkud was done.

The screams were much more infrequent now, and weaker. How much longer, before they stopped altogether? And there was the ragged sobbing off to the side, as Siaga took full communion in what was happening to Kevin.

"You're disappointing, Kayagh." Shkud commented. "Perhaps I should have made your female companion go first--she was more rewarding than you." A hoarse whimper was all his response, and bubbling, ragged breathing.

Nobody noticed the thumps of movement nearing the main entrance, and their stopping.

"It seems that I'll actually have to start on the internal organs next..." Shkud sighed. "Messy." Oryo'i bared her teeth in a rictus as a shiver went through her armored frame. Shkud shook his head mornfully, and took a cloth to clean the dripping blade. He narrowed his eyes again, looking for a place to begin.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Red.

Color of wrath, color of rage. Color of the sleeping reptile in the brain when it came alive. Nothing mammalian could stand against it.

The red boiled into vision, blanking out all that might have been rational, as the reptile roared.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The bellow shattered everything; no scream of pain or horror, but of utter hatred. Oryo'i stared wildly about at the shout, the Enforcers dashing about, and in the middle of it, even Shkud dropped the knife, startled.

Whistles and then explosions of missiles slamming into the hive chamber; and an olive-drab armored figure plummeted into the middle of it, the black-on-yellow tree insignia on its shoulder briefly visible as it rushed forward like the hammer of God.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The red did not totally blank his vision. He saw the struggling figures, arms motionless in mecha claws. Carefully, with limpid clarity, he aimed and shouted the fire codes.

The Sentinels startled as the missiles shrieked in; most impacted within a couple of feet of them. One did hit, shattering the eye of the armor and reducing the head inside to pulp as it detonated. As the claws loosened in death, its captive broke and rolled as the mecha began to slump to the ground, her red-and-white hair flying. The rifle, attached to the arm, broke free, and the slender figure dove for it.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Matthew Ulm dove, his rifle fixed and prepared to fire, noting the tall figure in front of the slumped. Oh, he'd make this bastard talk, for certain. He'd certainly be in no position to vivisect Kevin with an H-90 to his head and his hive on the line...

He did not quite notice the zestful smile appearing on the Invid's teeth.

Suddenly, the Invid was leaping--_at_ him, holding himself in the air far longer than gravity would allow. A momentary glimpse of slitted pupils and wild red hair, and Matt was blinded by a hot white light.

Something clattered on the ground, and his suddenly bare right arm testified that his arm shield unit had mysteriously disappeared. The bar of energy completed its arc, and Matt was barely out of the way before it darted forward again.

Matt had watched his own share of _Star Wars_--he did not need to see the light's relationship to the clenched fist of the Invid to have an idea of the implications.

_That's not possible!_

There was a hissing sound, and a smoking wisp where part of his foot armor had been. The cat-eyed Invid chuckled, enjoying himself.

Matthew growled and charged, firing another missile.

It did not even hit, detonating instead somewhere on the chamber ceiling. Inhumanly fast, the Invid darted in; even with the mecha's assistance the lieutenant barely made out of the path of a cut that would have disemboweled him. Underneath the fury, a tiny portion of fear was making itself known.

_My god, nothing's that fast, is it? What _is_ this thing?_ The servos on one leg had been damaged; chest heaving, Matt had to cope with the Cyclone's weight on the weakened appendage, Fighting to cope, he made for the air. The psionic weapon slashed at him again, and he was nearly killed in the blaze of horror that broke his focus.

He was hovering. So was the Invid, his feet invisibly supported several meters off _terra firma_.

Under the hatred, Ulm was beginning to get the small cold sensation that he was in farther over his head than he'd thought.

Grinning, the black-and-scarlet figure lunged at him again.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Siaga, her teeth bared and sweat sopping her uniform, aimed and convulsively fired at the Invid mecha still holding the humans, their having not reacted yet. The two shrills of shock and abrupt silence were hardly even noticed in the vast orchestra of agony that still shook her psyche from her willing communion with Kayagh's torment. The Terrans needed no prompting; as the Sentinel shells fell, they were running, the male human taking up one of the dropped energy shields.

Pain exploded through her, true pain, rending her guts, scalding her flesh. She began to fall, quite helplessly, the weapon falling from her loosened hands, but not before she saw a fleeting image of Oryo'i, pistol still raised, face twisted in anger and anguish.

As she folded to the floor, she saw another image; the yellow-haired young female, her eyes wide and mouth opened, changing her direction and running for her, a hand reached out.

With her fading strength, Siaga of the Invid extended her own, the green-smeared digits spreading as though in supplication.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Dennis saw the charcoal-armored Invid woman begin to turn away, catch the sight of him, and the the amber eyes beginning to widen in shock. She whipped around and fired, but the discharges were harmlessly absorbed by the energy lens still projected by the shield.

Then, there was the shock of impact as his body impacted hers, and his face was full of a hissing, clawing, white-haired demon, her pistol spinning out of use.

_My God, she's strong,_ he thought, as he pushed the shield forward, trying to prevent her nails going for his eyes. Ducking under her grasp, he made one final lunge, dropping the shield.

She staggered forward, and before she could react, he hit her precisely in the base of the skull with a clenched fist.

She was human enough to feel it; she slumped bonelessly, unconscious.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Ulm dodged the psionic blade's attack, barely in time. He could feel the chill of his left arm now stripped of its shield, the labor of his overworked, aging heart, the fight for him to get enough oxygen to his system. The sensations were lost in the deadly dance of strike and counterstrike, defend and move, and the wrath that still deadened his mind to all but killing his opponent. At another level, he knew that even with the Super Saber's CADS systems both out and whirring, periodic discharge of missiles and the Cyclone's power behind him, he was outclassed.

Badly.

The Invid's unarmored figure leapt and sidestepped like a phantom devil, constantly out of Matt's reach, often almost within contact, if only to taunt and take further bits off. Trying to hit him was like trying to damage a flame. The speed and power were unbelievable. Nothing human was that fast... but his opponent was not.

Matt was aware that he was being backed up against a wall; he tried to buy time, as the Kulagi toyed with him, shaving his battlesuit off piece by piece.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Elsewhere, in the paralyzed silence of the hive, its normal function and direction lost in the uproar in the audience chamber, the Solugi Miragai was prodded, sweating, into a vast room.

"What are you doing, human? If you are going to--"

There was a sharp jab into his back, felt even through the padding and ceramic of his flight armor. "Shut up, or I'll by god shut you up," the clear female soprano snapped. Swallowing, her prisoner complied.

They were unchallenged as they crossed the floor, the room dead silent. "What's going on?" Gwen wondered to herself. "Did the others cause THAT much of a fuss?" The two made their way closer to a huge glowing hemisphere in the center of the room. The human in the Cyclone wondered what might be the best spot, and then--

Her eyes lit on a small object situated within a couple feet of the hive power core. Urging Miragai along, she got within visual distance.

"Oh my G--" she choked.

"What?"

Getting herself under control, she said quite clearly. "It's a bomb."

"WHAT?" Miragai half-screamed, forcing a further jab into his back with the H-90.

"I think my CO got here first," she explained in a low, rapid voice. "There's a timer on that thing; there's less than forty-five minutes left before everything in this hive explodes. If we stay, we go with it."

"Can you stop it?"

"I ain't no bomb-squad, Invid. If I tried, I might trigger it prematurely. We humans make damn sure nobody hostile can get away with tryin' to disable it without gettin' it in the face." _And I'm not gonna even try,_ she added silently.

Too late, she realized what Miragai was trying to do. Even as he made mental contact, before she could fire, his face transfixed with horror.

"**No!** What has he done?? How _could _he?" he said in English, gasping in reaction, doubling over as he protected his midriff. Her rage replaced by astonishment, Gwen stared as he panted, shuddering.

After a few seconds, he seemed to break the contact and straightened again, his face taut with hurt, pale green eyes flat.

Emotionlessly, he said, "I will go with you. There is nothing left here for me."

Even more astonished, Gwen gaped underneath her helmet at this sudden change in loyalty. She had no idea what had just happened in his telepathic communion with the hive; but the reaction had been too sincere to be faked. And somehow, she felt curiously resistant to leaving him here to die with the rest of his hive. Miragai had done nothing as far as she could see to warrant that quick a judgement. Especially after Amanda...

Finally, she said in a brittle voice, "Keep in front of me, and for both our sakes, you better find the fastest way out."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Matt wheeled crazily, his directional thrusters now gone. Of his Super Saber, little was left except shredded and disabled servoes and fragmented plating, for the Invid had put in many a blow. The CADS were gone, his missile systems worthless, nothing left except the last dregs of his backpack thrusters helping him to elude that deadly blade. Still, Ulm himself was untouched. He had a fair idea why, and from the sadistic smile on his opponent's face, it looked to be right on target.

Ulm got too close; a hiss, and suddenly he was falling.

The impact nearly knocked him out. He rolled to his back, just in time to see the tall figure hit the floor and stand over him. Detached, Ulm watched the white light-bar swing back for the last stroke at his neck.

There was a roar.

Shkud staggered, the blade diappearing, a look of shock on his face. He put up a hand to his side, then brought it up.

"What?" he said blankly.

There were two more reports; Shkud arched, then began to topple. Something warm splashed Ulm's face and armor in tune with the blasts as the Invid's side erupted in a green splatter. Ulm barely managed to roll out of the way as the Kulagi nearly fell on him.

Shkud writhed, no longer feeling anything below his chest, trying to drag himself back to his feet and failing. Desperately, he attempted to activate his healing abilities, but it was too little too late--even as he tried, his bodily systems eroded and shut down.

Through dimming vision and perception, he managed to turn his face in the direction where the shots had come from.

_**No!** It could... not be! Killed, by that? No, I can... not...will... not..._

"A present from my sister, you son of a bitch," the human said thickly, and fired one last time.

Shkud, Lord of the Kulagi, slipped several feet across the floor from the impact of the blast, smearing blood in his wake, and settled in final stillness, the snake eyes open and glassy.

Silence slammed a lid over all, except for the thud of bootsoles as the young woman dropped the heavy Invid rifle and made a beeline for the other figure curled on the floor.

Miraculously, it moved as Amanda skidded to her knees by it, the knees of her coverall soaking in green fluid. The fogging yellow eyes opened and focused on her in an effort; Siaga may have smiled.

"Hold your peace, Human... nothing... you can do..." The hands clamped over her midriff moved; Amanda knew from what lay under it that there was nothing in either Invid or Human science that would help Siaga now.

"S-siaga...I'm so sorry..."

Siaga did smile. "You grieve... for me? Young one... better death as a Solugi... than life... as a drone... Little while... knew your life... knew to feel... grateful for that..." She rallied, pulled in one final, gurgling breath. "Amanda... save... my brother..." A gout of fluid came up from her mouth, and she went limp, the wide sulfur eyes fixing.

Amanda, stared, blankly raised her hand, and closed Siaga's eyes. She stared blankly a few seconds at the dead woman, before the reality crashed in on her. Shooting to her feet, she repeated, "'Save my brother--'" the Invid's last words reaching her all of a sudden. She nearly vomited at she saw the wreckage still sagging against the opposite wall.

Matt and Dennis were already there; a couple of quick pulls on the trigger released the cuffs from the wall. Dennis staggered as he caught the falling weight in his arms; the bloody body barely twitched in response. A arm flopped to the side, revealing the slicing wound the late Lord Shkud had opened there, dribbling Invid ichor.

"We can't carry him like this, we'll kill him!" Dennis spat.

"We'll die if we stay, Zinnert!" Ulm barked hoarsely back. "I set a bomb at the power core, and it has less than thirty minutes before it goes off. We'll have to take our chances."

"The Alpha's half a mile off," Zinnert said. "Sunshine apparently anticipated our coming and had the reception planned here in advance. I'm just hoping that after our earlier fights the thing can still fly."

"What about her?" Matt said, indicating the unconscious Oryo'i.

"We haven't time to get her too," Zinnert replied. "Come on."

Amanda managed to grab Oryo'i's pistol. "I'll take point."

Matt nodded shortly, removing the pieces of his ruined Cyclone from his CVR. "You take his legs, I'll take his upper body." Dennis complied and the two managed to lift Kevin's ravaged figure.

The next several minutes extended to numb eternity, as they tried to move as fast as they could with their burden, which only occasionally moaned. There were a couple of bad spots were they thought Enforcers or Sentinels were about to shoot them down, but they all seemed unmotivated and confused, not even noting the humans sneaking by. To Amanda's eyes they all looked as though they were acting like chickens with their heads cut off; she was more correct than she knew.

The Alpha was still in gerwalk where Dennis had left it, there having not been enough time for the Invid to do anything about it. The Assault Battloid next to it was still undamaged, but the only one who could pilot it was currently bleeding his life out onto the hive floor. Amanda leapt up into the rear cockpit, tearing out the medkit and shuddering as the two men handed up Kevin's limp figure. The stench of ichor was overwhelming. As Amanda began frantically to staunch the wounds of the softly whimpering Invid, the two officers crammed into the front and began to bring the engines to life.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" Dennis swore. "Lot of bleed from the prior damage-- I hope the Shadow system's still functional."

"Fifteen minutes left," Matthew said, checking gauges. "Let's get the hell out."

The engines whined to life, and the craft began to lift.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The gray palled from black, bringing a horrific headache along with it. Muttering, she shook her head and opened her eyes to dead silence.

For a couple of minutes, all she could do was stare.

Then, she shakily rose to her feet, still not believing, her eyes on the two bodies lying there.

The Kulagi lay half on his side in a pooling smear of his own blood, his uniform soaked black with it where it contacted the floor and his long red hair clotted with it. For the first time in several years, his countenance wasn't contorted in pride, hate, or anger. The face wore a vaguely surprised look, the eyes open and dilated. From the look of the gaping hole in his side, he was quite thoroughly dead.

Siaga was curled up in another pool of fluid, her hands verdegris with drying ichor as they lay loosely over the gut wound that had killed her. The eyes were closed and the face peaceful, the lips curved, as though savoring some quiet, deep triumph.

Oryo'i stood, looking numbly on the carnage, unable to make a coherent thought.

"So, Shkud, is this the superiority to humanity you so claimed? Slaughtering ourselves as they do?" The corpses on the floor made no response.

Numbly, she turned on her heel and began to run.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The Alpha limped through the hive passageways, making for the first open passage. Abruptly, light--daylight--blazed around them. The Alpha accelerated as far as safe, unimpeded by the hive shields. Scouts started to rise and make a half-hearted pursuit, but the Alpha left them behind.

"We're out," Ulm declared. "Only a couple of minutes left. We've got to get a couple of miles away before the blast wave hits. How's he doing?"

Blankly, the back seat replied, "I don't know. There's so many wounds--I've only managed to stop the bleeding on the worst of them. Internal damage, and his blood pressure's too low."

"Shit," Ulm said. The interior of the cockpit stank like a compost heap. Amanda did not reply, instead cutting off yet another gauze strip to close the seven-inch-long slashes, her hands smeared with reeking fluid. There was another whimper of pain as she jogged his snapped ribs, but binding them would have to wait. His eyes suddenly opened, staring at empty space.

"Who's there?" the barely audible whisper came. "Get out of my head..."

"Kevin," Amanda said softly, "It's all right. It's me. I'm here."

There was a slight flicker, although the scout's eyes still did not see her. "Mandy? Is that you?" His lips moved in a smile. "Good..." The eyelids closed as he slipped back into unconsciouness.

"Hope Gwen managed to get out," Ulm said to himself.

"What?" Dennis yelped. "You brought along---"

"Her means of apology." Ulm murmured, nursing the protesting VAF along. "I don't think we should worry that much. Gwen's a born survivor, and she had the same plan in mind as me. I believe in her power to get out."

"...Oh, shit," Zinnert muttered. "We've got company. One lone bogie still on our tail, and Marauder by designation."

"Oryo'i," Ulm said detachedly, bringing the image up on visuals. "Looks like she's in a bad way herself. Better gun it."

"Fantoma," Dennis swore. "Doesn't she know when to quit?" The Alpha was making headway; the Invid craft falling behind. "You'd think, considering what her dear lord was, she'd've--"

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The last second disappeared from the LCD screen, and space dissolved into plasma. The hive power core gone, the chain reaction roared through the rest of the hive with lightning swiftness. In seconds, it was lost in a hemisphere of energy, taking transmission towers and Invid patrols with it.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Oryo'i screamed as the hive's death hit her, and then again, seconds after, as the blast wave rocked her craft, nearly causing the battered mecha to smash into the ground. She was forced to fight to stay aloft, all thoughts of pursuit forgotten.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

The pain slammed into Kevin O'Shea's lacerated psyche at the same time. Hundreds upon hundreds of the minds of Invid, Iigaari and Malorosm, Iigai and Torab crying out, as they faded into brilliant oblivion, their ghosts left behind to torment him.

It was too much, and he was so tired, and so consumed with self-hate.

The loving darkness opened its arms, and took him in.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Amanda screamed in terror as the bloody figure on her lap convulsed violently and half sat up, eyes wide open, back arched and face contorted in a silent scream. As though a switch had been flipped, the body went limp again, eyes still open, chest still rising and falling, but with not a hint of personality left aware behind the blue irises...

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Around a corner, two faces peeked into the massive, freezing hollow of the old ampitheatre. One was gray-eyed and light-skinned, the other lower down and ebony dark, eyes flitting.

"It's almost noon," the upper one said in a low rumble. The lower face nodded.

"Everyone's relocated now to Base Two. There's that steam-tunnel network we can hide in. You have any idea on where are available spots to move?"

Gerald shook his head, his breath steaming. "Not yet, Miranda. We'll give another twenty-four hours, just in case."

"Optimist."

"I try hard." Wilson did not seem convinced. "Did the kid settle down?"

"A little. That was a helluva fit this morning."

"I have to admit, 'Randa--she's weird. Any ideas why?"

"This coming from someone whose father used to be forty feet tall?" The big man winced at the woman's cool tone. "I still haven't ruled out what those Flower spores did to her."

"They're it." Miranda nodded at Gerald's statement. "Let's keep the sensors peeled."

"Doi's looking on the radar. She'll tell us."

Minutes passed and the two, hiding against possible hostile sensors, began to relax in boredom. They jerked awake at the hailing beep on their coms.

Wilson replied and listened, his pale eyes going wide.

"Gotcha, Sherry. We'll meet the crew here." The halfbreed looked up at Miranda. "She just got a bogie with the right callnumber. It's them."

Miranda's eyes widened, hope, for the first time, returning to them. "All?"

Gerald shook his head. "Don't know."

The next fifteen minutes were eternity, as a couple of the medics and repair personnel snuck up to wait with them. At long last, a low rumble built to thunder, and the hole in the roof was eclipsed.

Miranda bit back a swearword as she saw the Alpha drop through. The thing looked as though it had taken on an entire hive; the external hull gouged and scratched as though claws had been trying to peel it off, and burned in a couple places with plasma hits. It settled, and she was running to the craft as the canopy began to lift.

Two figures got out first; if the mecha looked bad, the experience of seeing the two CO's was infinitely worse: smeared with drying green fluid, swaying, eyes looking as though they'd stared into the maw of Hell itself. Involuntarily, she swore at the sight. If they hadn't taken on the Invid race single-handedly, she didn't know what they...she squashed the notion. What the hell did she think they'd done, gone macrameing or deconstructing Henry James?

"Amanda?"

Ulm said hoarsely. "We got her."

Gerald glanced at the Alpha, eyes widening in fear, and Ulm interjected, "Alive. But..."

"You need medics?"

Dennis fought with himself and blurted out, "It's not her, it's Kevin."

Whirling on his heel, the CO turned and began to lope back to the tattered VAF-8R. Ulm, utterly exhausted, eyes glimmering with fear, took a sling stretcher from one of the meds without another word and followed him. Miranda and Gerald tried to follow them and got a look of sharp reproof.

The two shifted the mecha to pure fighter and then began to move around in the rear cockpit. Momentarily, the others heard Mandy's voice, but so ragged it was nearly unrecognizable. The two core members on the floor stared at each other, completely in the dark at to what was going on and worrying.

After several more minutes, Ulm got out, supporting and carefully helping lower the stretcher and the body it supported to the ground; Zinnert cautiously negotiated himself and his end out as well. Behind them, the battered face of Amanda Pierson popped up for the first time, her eyes red and a huge, blackening blotch spreading across one freckled cheek. She was shaking. Her coverall was covered with ichor as well. Fresh ichor.

Miranda and Gerald loped over to the burdened COs, attempting to offer help. Miranda, swallowing, was the first one to reach them.

For a second, she thought the limp figure on the stretcher had had a run-in of the violent kind with the enemy, splattering his shredded coverall, and there was an instant of pride in what Kevin had done. It was not until she heard Gerald Wilson's single, heartfelt curseword that she saw.

The dark-haired head of the body rolled to the side, the eyes open and blank, living but not much beyond that.

Out of one corner of Kevin O'Shea's mouth liquid trickled, etching a pine-green line down his chin.

"Sweet Jesus God," she said.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

_Lady Asaav, an urgent report,_ the Brain said. _Solugi Oryo'i has just contacted with terrible news._

The figure in the Orbital Hive's control chamber straightened in surprise. "What?"

_A small group of humans managed to infiltrate a major hive in Lord Shkud's domain, in order to rescue a human prisoner. Shkud was there at the time, and had taken most of them captive for interrogations. Somehow, the humans managed to destroy the hive and assassinate Shkud._

"Shkud? Assassinated?" she blurted out in incomprehension, for only one of a very few times since the beginning of the occupation. This was unheard of. "How?"

_Not yet fully known. Oryo'i was still suffering shock from the hive's destruction. But apparently the human still free had managed to interrupt Kulagi Shkud's questioning of a renegade Solugi amongst them._

Asaav had regained her composure. "Unbelievable," she murmured, shaking her head, the chin-length pale green hair fluffing out as she did so. "A renegade, even. What madness has seized them?" Restlessly, the brown and burgundy figure paced on the floor, the only sign of showing her agitation. "What an incredible tragedy. Have the others been notified yet?"

_As we speak, Lady._

The female Kulagi continued to pace, her aristocratic brows furrowed in thought. "Contact those with whom I have been speaking with. We must figure a way of preventing this in the future. We meet tomorrow, an orbit from now. Extend my consolations to the others on Shkud's death."

_Done._

"You are dismissed. I must think."

The Brain's presence was gone, leaving Asaav mentally alone.

So he was no more. A major setback for the occupation as a whole, for his...aberrancies beside, Shkud's means had always managed to get the most yield of Flowers out of his segment of the planet. It had been his ideas and policies that had made the rest of the Kulagi adopt their current policy for the occupation. Yes, on the whole, it was deleterious.

But for her own goals...

Asaav stopped, her mind brewing, her face closed.

After a minute, the brushed-aluminum eyes with their slashes of pupil narrowed, and her lips curved in private amusement.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

A bitter night coated the woods. The snow had decided to quit falling, but the cloud-cover overhead darkened the night, unbroken except for a small campfire. There were two huddled around it, but no word was spoken.

"D'you want some tea?" one said.

The second, shivering in a blanket, made a face and then seeing the steam rising off the top, reconsidered. A hand reached out and a mug was placed in it.

"I can get you some more cold gear if you like. Sorry nothin' my size fits you."

"No," the second said at last. "I'll be all right. This uniform and armor was made for extremes in temperature."

"I'm...sorry," Gwen said.

"So am I," Miragai said in exhaustion. "You can sleep. I promise I won't escape."

The amber eyes slanted over, deliberated, and looking at the semi-collapsed figure, compromised mentally by deciding to fall asleep after whenever he decided to. She nearly nodded off, and dimly realized the idea might be sabotaged by her own weariness.

"Human?"

She jerked back awake. "Mhhn?"

"What will happen now?"

She had not exactly been thinking of direction when somehow she had managed to tear out of the hive with less than twenty minutes to spare, praying that the arms wrapped around her middle would not decide to strangle her all of a sudden. Nor had she been thinking when the horizon behind them flared blindingly, and her "prisoner" had made a hoarse noise of pain. Even now, his pale green eyes were grayed with reaction.

Now she had to think.

She had played Judas to the Elms, and as Ulm had implied, they would never trust her again. They might pretend to, but in a scenario where it was truly needed, when lives might depend on it...

There was no way she could ever return. Especially with her involuntary traveling companion. She strongly doubted they would welcome the Invid with her.

She remembered that the hive lay--had lain--to the northeast from the base.

She sighed. "North. We head north tomorrow."

oooooooooooooooooooo 

A couple of hundred miles to the south, a lone figure made its way through the icy woods, trying to move as quickly as possible without running. It had discovered in the past few months that such movements in certain areas attracted unfriendly attention. While the traveler had little fear of being killed, the kind of things she might have to do might attract even more unfriendly attention, which was the last thing she wanted at the time. She was desperately needed elsewhere; being sidetracked would not help anyone.

The furtive moon, peeking through the clouds, picked stars of reflection out of her hair as she moved.

oooooooooooooooooooo 

Sweat trickled down into Oryo'i's collar, and she inserted a finger into it to try and cool her neck off. She, however, was full aware that this section of the Orbital Hive's mean temperature was not all that warm. Her perspiring was for entirely different reasons.

It was the hardest effort she ever made in her current life, but at last, she managed to put a foot foward, and stepped through the door and into the audience chamber of Kulagi Asaav. For a moment, she saw the ruling Invid's tall figure, and her heart contracted as though in a clenching fist.

She was down on on knee even before Asaav noticed her presence, eyes fixed on the floor, her pulse thumping so loudly she felt it could be heard throughout the entire room, the knowledge of her shame constant in her mind. She had allowed the murder of one of the Kulagi and the destruction of a major hive and over a thousand Invid, and she was fully expecting not to walk out being able to pilot a Gamun. She would be lucky if she were allowed to live.

"I have come as you have ordered, Lady Asaav. As the Kulagi with the closest geographical area of control to my lord, you have full juristiction over me, and my--actions." Oryo'i was impressed; she had managed to say it with only the slightest tremor to her voice. She could feel Asaav's attention on her.

_I must look a sight,_ Oryo'i thought. Her face was bruised from striking portions of the cockpit in her desperate battle to stay alive in her foundering mecha, as it had been battered by the blast wave of the hive's explosion; a battle that she thought was quite pointless in retrospect. At least, she would not have had to face this.

"Solugi Oryo'i." the calm, unaffected voice said. "Thank you for being prompt. We have business to attend to.

"In this conflict, your ruling lord died as an indirect result of your actions, as did many of our kind. However, I must illustrate the fact that the root cause was your capture of the human female, an action in and of itself a good thing, as we must need to learn more of this species' battle tatics in order to firm our own plans. However, it cannot be helped that humans seems to be strangely--comitted to each other, often to foolish extents. Nor did you know that in addition to the initial rescue attempt, a second had entered, unknown by you or the others of your hive. Furthermore, none of us had any idea the humans were being helped by a traitor to us, and you most certainly did not. So it is not something that was under your control.

"Our lamented brother Shkud was well known to be--intransigent--on certain things. One of them being, of course, his relentless persecution of you once you failed to please him. Unfortunately, his failure was to see what you were trying. Or what was aiding the humans."

Asaav smiled. Allow the Solugi to think what she was thinking for a little while longer, in order to ensure my hold over her. The results ought to be most...rewarding. The Solugi was still hunched in her kneel, waiting for the blow to fall.

She paused for a couple of minutes.

"Shkud's failure was to see that events might happen that would not favor his plans, or that an accident might temporarily thwart his goals and that of the occupation. He could not conceive of events going wrong, especialy concerning himself. This made him completely incapable of seeing what you had tried to attempt, and in fact ultimately deprived him of his life."

Oryo'i was stunned. A Kulagi, admitting that one of their own was flawed? Asaav continued.

"I wonder what he might have thought had your original plan had went as intended. It was without sanction, true, but it was created with a great deal of foresight as to what might be needed in the future in combatting the native population. Those are talents we need. Shkud would most certainly have deevolved you had he been alive--" a shiver trembled the Solugi's slender frame, "but that is a foolish and hot-headed waste of resources." Silence again, then:

"Rise, Solugi Oryo'i."

Oryo'i complied. The Kulagi's silver, inhuman eyes were neutral, but there seemed no censure. There was movement behind her, but years under Shkud's control had taught Oryo'i to keep her attention on a superior at all times.

"We of the Kulagi are now one less of our number. Your lord's death will have repercussions in control and territory issues, unless someone else is willing to take up his post. And the remaining twenty-three of us have our own pressing issues."

Oryo'i blinked foolishly, trying to understand Asaav's point. Her concentration was broken, as she saw the sources of the movement resolve in the dimness to five other tall humanoid figures, all clad in the distinctive uniform of the Kulagi. Her heart going cold, she thought, _Mother, she's going to de-evolve me after all. But I expected it, did I not?_

A smile, at long last, crossed Asaav's glacial features. Numbly, Oryo'i felt the background level of power rise, as the other five moved foward...

"Oryo'i, the Council has deliberated on this issue, and I have added in my input. Due to my earlier work, it has been agreed on. _You_ will be that replacement."

"WHAT?" Oryo'i yelped in pure shock. Asaav did not take note, as the power suddenly spiked and energy began to form a nimbus around her.

"Oryo'i, prepare yourself for bio-reconstruction and transmutation!"

Confused, the subordinate Invid almost fled, but it was too late.

The other five Kulagi began to draw on their own immense power, and to feed it to the Kulagi in front of them, Asaav's figure suddenly going incandescent with the concentrated energy given her. As the focus, she shaped and directed it, toward the figure in front of her.

She lifted her hands, and began.

An intense blaze shot out of each palm, the protoculture-driven energy catching Oryo'i as she stood in astonishment, enveloping her.

The form she had known for six-and-a-half Terran years fell away, leaving nothing in the firestorm save a globe of light; her consciousness disembodied, kept coherent by the psychokinetic matrix holding it in place. Carefully controlling it, Asaav, with the help of the others, began bit by bit to reconstruct Oryo'i's genetic code. In seconds, a figure began reforming out of the primal tumult.

An indistinguishable time later, the energy output faded and disappeared, leaving afterimages in its wake.

The figure that had reappeared out of the Invid energy swayed, murmuring in confusion. Oryo'i blankly felt herself. Nothing seemed different than from before, at first. What did they do? Something seemed different about the uniform that had reappeared with her--a different color pattern. She felt taller, by a few inches...

Asaav's mind-voice entered her thoughts. _I would remind you that this was approved by the Council on my recommendation, Oryo'i. I sincerely hope that you would act appropiately about that in future events, when dealing with me. Please do not betray my trust in you._

_What approved?_ Oryo'i thought. The slender hands seemed unchanged, but her figure, slimmer? Or taller. Where were her bruises? And where did this new and boundless energy come from? She'd been exhausted; now she felt as though she could take on a battalion of humans unaided...

"Welcome, Kulagi Oryo'i, to our ranks."

With another shock, and beginning exhaltation, Oryo'i understood.

She pushed her silver hair out of orange, cat-slitted eyes, and nodded for the first time to Asaav and the five others as equal to equals.

And she smiled.

**End Book One:**

**Lightning Crashes**


	10. Chapter Ten

**Book Two:**

**The Darkest of Winters**

**Dandelions: Chapter 10**

It was dark inside and bitterly cold, though not as much as it was outside in the piercing wind. A hand was silhouetted against the wan glow of a heater, then it grasped the teapot and poured the contents into a mug. It then handed the mug to a man barely visible against the heater glow, his dark eyes so sunken in from exhaustion and stress they seemed blackened.

"Tell me what happened, Dennis," Miranda Altman said softly.

The man leaned against the cramped wall of the old steam tunnel, his mouse-brown hair lank, face battered, before looking over at her. Miranda was wrapping her own hands around her mug for warmth, her dark face above it no more rested than his, but firm.

"Summary: We were fucking idiots, Altman. All of us."

"Dennis, hon, that tells me no more than it did before."

Second Lieutenant Dennis Zinnert sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It started with Pierson's capture. You know that. And how I reacted to that got.....O'Shea infuriated at me. I've never seen him that angry before. He never liked me, but...." He looked off in the distance. "Apparently he had a different idea of acceptable losses than I did." He uttered a soft, slightly hysterical chuckle. "In retrospect, it makes sense... Um...." Dennis looked actually mortified, one of the rare times the woman had seen him so. "It....shamed me into doing a really fucking stupid thing."

Miranda's voice was faintly dry. "You ripped off the Alpha and got it ripped to shreds." She sipped her drink.

"That was later. Apparently the sneaky bastard knew me better than I did, and joined me for the ride." Despite herself, Miranda smiled. It was, she thought, so like Kevin.

"And then Matt said he and Gwen followed right after your tail as soon as he realized you two were gone."

"Oh, of course." Dennis had enough energy to roll his eyes. " It's not enough that we have one person left to certain death, Miranda. We had to have a bunch of the rest of us jump in after into the river. Matthew said he was trying to keep us alive. I think he just wanted to make sure we all went together when we went. Damn, he won't admit or deny, though."

"Wonder why Gwen."

"Damned if I know."

"So you high-tailed it off to the most likely Invid hive to be holding Mandy."

"I told you it was stupid."

"And you managed to get within range."

"O'Shea helped."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

"And you against all odds managed to ram your way in past God knows how many Attack Scouts, Enforcers, and worse."

"Have I mentioned the Assault Battloid?"

Miranda's voice was deadpan. "I think I heard something like that, yeah." She sipped again, her face clouded by the steam. "The Assault Battloid that nearly ripped out the left arm of the Alpha, beat the shit out of you generally, and made a nuisance of itself the entire way in until you managed to knock the pilot out."

"Oryo'i."

"What?"

"That's her name."

"...right."

"O'Shea was....creative in helping. Let's just put it that way, Altman."

"......riiiiiight."

"So myself and lovesick First Scout of the Elms managed to work our way in and get Rapunzel from the tower, along with her block buddy, the female Stage Five who was going to be devolved for working against the occupation." Zinnert blew on the tea, then paused to drink it. "And then....we found it was all a trap."

The woman nodded.

Zinnert's voice was a whisper. "Amanda was bait, and the Stage Five was a unknowing remote to trigger it. They wanted us, and they ended up getting us." There was a long pause. "Most of all, they wanted Kevin. Or....he wanted Kevin."

"He?" Miranda asked. The second commanding officer of Ulm's Elms looked at her with an expression that clearly said he'd seen far more in the past thirty-six hours than he'd ever wanted to see, even counting his worlds-hopping during the Sentinels Campaign.

"He. A.....I have no idea what... Amanda said he was a 'Kulagi,' whatever that is. He was some class of Invid I've never seen before in my life, Miranda. Looked human, like the Stage Fives, except for...those eyes." Zinnert shivered. "All iris, slit pupils like a cat or snake. Moved like...greased lightning." He was silent for a minute. "And he made the Invid Regent's troops look like rank amateurs when it came to sadism."

Miranda gaped. "..._another_ stage of Invid?"

"A goddamned powerful one. He cut a fully operational and armed Cyclone battlesuit to pieces, with Matt still inside, without touching Matt. Using some....kind of energy blade. He..." nausea shivered his voice. "He....also.... Miranda, he tortured Kevin. Horribly. And made us watch. I mean..." He tried to gain control of himself. "I mean....Miranda....I've got no illusions about our race. We'll kill, steal, backstab, rape, and torture each other for five credits when you get the real sickos. But.....whatever else they did....the Regis' Invid never relished torturing their own or got off on it. To see what I saw him do to Kevin...." He very quietly put his face in his hands.

Miranda whispered. "So it's true. It's really true. I wasn't hallucinating in the hangar. Kevin, all this time, was...."

"He was Invid, Altman. Stage Five." Dennis whispered through his hands. "And grandfathered by chartering the Elms with Matt, myself, and the rest. His and Matt's being lovers was all a ruse to cover it up. I know. It seems impossible to me too."

Miranda contemplated this wordlessly, as Dennis continued, barely audible.

"If Matt hadn't found us, and interrupted the bastard's 'interrogation' of O'Shea..." He trailed off. "He managed to kill enough of the Invid Sentinels holding us that the Invid prisoner was able to kill the two holding Pierson and I...though she was mortally wounded by Oryo'i in the process. I knocked Oryo'i out...and the monster Invid was so busy drawing out finishing off Matt that Pierson was able to kill the son of a bitch."

Miranda's mouth was hanging open again. "_Mandy_ managed to off him, Dennis?"

He nodded. "Blew his side right open. I hope the fucker burns in Hell if they got one for them."

Miranda just stared at that information.

Dennis's voice was nearly inaudible. "I...think he was the one responsible for the enslavement and destruction of her town."

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it." She still seemed stunned.

Dennis nodded, sipping tea. There was nothing but frigid silence for a couple of minutes.

"How did you get out?" Miranda continued.

Dennis leaned back, looking at her with bistered eyes. "We...managed to cut down and get O'Shea to the VAF and get the hell out. The rest of the hive was thrown into disarray by Pierson's killing their leader. Matt had planted a bomb at the hive core, and we barely got out with enough time to spare before it went off and destroyed the hive. Oryo'i got out too, however. I'd managed to do a number on her Battloid, but she was following us right up to the moment the hive went up and she got caught in the shockwave." He sipped his drink. "If she wasn't on the other side I'd admire her persistence."

Miranda just shook her head, mutely. "And Gwen?"

"We don't know about what happened to her. Matt seemed confident that she got out though. Their objective was to send the place up at the least." Dennis's voice broke a bit. He whispered, "The hive's destruction was the last straw for O'Shea. He spasmed, sat up, and then completely switched off into catatonia. Why after all that he wasn't dead yet...."

Miranda's voice was toneless, after an extended chug of her tea. "I've heard enough from Matt, Dennis. He's got broken ribs, internal bleeding, massive blood loss from numerous deep cuts on his body....and yes. He's completely switched off. The lights are on, but there ain't anyone home. Mandy got badly bruised and you and Matt aren't so great either, but Kevin..."

"Miranda....he was drawing the thing's attention. Deliberately. He was trying to get himself killed before it...I'm not going to call it a 'he'...managed to get any more from his mind about us than possible. I thought I'd seen bravery before, but..." He trailed off. "Fantoma...."

Miranda closed her eyes. "I would have never suspected. Not once. That the cute, silver-tongued guy that kept stealing my food and eating it, charming the pants off me and working his way into my heart as a dear friend..."

"...Was an alien? Invid, at that?"

"Mmm." She nodded, eyes still closed. Moisture was beading her lashes, silently.

"I never would have thought that either, Altman. He....he fooled a lot of us."

"Does....it make a difference to you, Dennis?"

Dennis was silent a long moment. "Once upon, it would have. The Regent and his Invid were the bad guys, we were the white hats, and that was never going to change. If I'd known before this what Kevin was....it would have affected things. I won't lie, Miranda."

Miranda looked down at her tea. "And now?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know, Miranda." He added, "You?"

Miranda's hands tightened on her cup. "_No_." Her voice was desperately convinced.

Dennis nodded.

"I....worry about the rest. The news is going to leak out to the rest before long. And I'm afraid of what some of them might do if they knew. Including Bohms. Especially Bohms."

"I think it's going to be a moot point before long, Lieutenant."

He looked a wordless question at her.

"I think he's dying," Miranda whispered hopelessly.

oooooooooooooooooooo

There was dead silence and near-darkness in a tiny room off of the old underground library that composed part of Base Two of Ulm's Elms. The entire group had done a mass evacuation of Base One upon Amanda Pierson's capture by the Invid and were currently in a wait and see mode before deliberating moving further away from the area to protect themselves. The hive's destruction and the death of a presumed major leader of the occupation had bought time, but not much. It was feared that retaliation, when it happened, would be all the worse as a result.

Inside that room, sat a figure by a bed, watching the languid pulse of lights and beeps of the life support monitoring the bed's occupant.

_I wonder when they'll stop completely,_ she thought numbly.

She rubbed bruised-looking eyes, wincing as fingers strayed onto an enormous, blackening bruise on one cheek. It hurt to swallow too; the ring of evil-looking purple blotches around her neck bore testament to more bruising. The rest of her body ached too as if she had been pummeled, from sheer fatigue and the ordeals of the past three days.

But it was nothing compared to the injuries the motionless body on the bed had taken.

She'd remorselessly killed the source of both of their pain, and it was a hollow, bitter victory to taste. It wouldn't bring her sister back. It wouldn't bring her father back, or her elementary school history teacher. It wouldn't bring any of the hundreds of other people of her town the Invid had taken back.

And it wouldn't do a single thing to pull the figure on the bed back from the division between life and death it was slowly but inevitably creeping towards.

_The dying visage of the Invid woman, whispering, _Amanda--save my brother...

"I'm sorry, Siaga," she whispered to the dead. "I tried. It's not going to be enough."

Amanda tried to find tears, but there weren't any--only a hopeless, black dull numbness, the burnt-out hollow left after the horrors of the past few days. She hadn't anything left to feel with. She wondered if she'd ever feel again. She wondered if there'd be any point after those lights went dark for good.

As of their own will, fingers reached out and brushed the cheek of the sunken, waxen-looking visage before her. It was still warm, still breathing on its own. But there was no response, hadn't been since that hideous moment the hive had died. The rest of the body was worse; heavy bandaging and braced ribs hiding the stitched, vicious slashes the Kulagi Invid Shkud had methodically etched onto it, for no other real reason than sheer sadism. The formerly shoulder-length, glossy black hair had been crudely chopped short, having been so clotted with blood there was no point in trying to clean it.

It was almost worse that the face under it was almost untouched despite everything, except for the ugly bruise on one cheek. It was the same straight, elegant nose, high cheekbones, and somewhat narrow face she'd always known, but with none of the driving personality behind it that had made it so attractive. The only difference now between the face and a death mask was that one--for now--still breathed.

_Recognizable,_ she thought. _The son of a bitch wanted him recognizable. An example._

Amanda bent her head over her hands, wondering absently where the wet warmth plopping onto them was coming from.

The scuffle from the doorway made her jerk up suddenly, eyes wide, the light from the monitors dancing off a wet face. "Who's _there_?" she barked, green eyes narrowing. Unconsciously, her weight shifted from sitting to a combat ready crouch.

The shadow in the doorway timidly stepped forward, causing her to suddenly relax in consternation. The intruder had turned out to be a small, dark-haired girl with wide, frightened blue eyes and a mop of ringlets.

Amanda Pierson stared, lost in confusion for a second.

"Florrie," she asked hoarsely, "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

The little girl looked embarassed but simultaneously unapologetic, as she shuffled further in. Her small feet, clad in old 'footie' pajamas, padded in further, towards the tense figure by the bed and its unresponsive occupant.

"Couln't sleep," she mumbled.

She was by far the youngest member of the resistance group of Ulm's Elms at age seven, more ward than anything. They'd found her in an Invid slave camp, near comatose from prolonged exposure to the spores of Invid Flower of Life. She'd made to all obvious signs a complete recovery, but there were still the spells of staring off into space, seeing things that weren't there, and frightening fits that coincided unnervingly with Invid activity....

Of their entire town, Amanda Pierson and Florence Henderson were the only two known survivors.

Amanda couldn't help but try to put herself between the child and the bed, out of sheer reflex. Who knows what those spores had done to her, and what she might see as a result. Florence seemed undismayed, padding closer, big blue eyes unfrightened by either Amanda's attitude or the wreckage on the bed.

"Florrie..." Amanda said quietly, "you should go back and try to sleep. It's gonna be a busy day tomorrow."

"_You're_ not sleeping," Florence pointed out with a child's bluntness.

Amanda's hackles rose, along with the now familiar tight-chestedness of grief. _Because if I do I'll wake up to find Kevin dead. I just know it. _"That's because I'm grown up."

Florence didn't seem to buy this, just stared at her unblinkingly in a manner that would have been creepy if one hadn't remembered that in her seven years she had gone through more hell than many three times her age had even in this brutal day and age.

The little girl then abruptly ducked around Amanda, and, before the older girl could react, was staring wide-eyed at the bruised, near-dead visage of the man on the bed. She stood like that for a long moment, while Amanda debated whether to push her away or not. But Florence didn't scream or run; just stood there, biting her lip.

"He's got pretty colors," she said at last, apropos of nothing. "But they're awfully dark."

Amanda bit her lip. "That's because he's dying, damn it, Florence--" She bit the rest off before she could say anything worse, giving out a soft whimper of a sob. Florence just looked up at her with wide, sad eyes.

There was a long moment, and then Florence said, with a maturity far greater than expected for seven: "He doesn't have to, 'Manda. S'what she says."

"She?!" Amanda burst out, now positive that those spores had in fact put Florrie as much over the deep end as her dead mother.

Florence nodded vigorously, once again a little girl. "My angel. She's got really long pretty silver hair and she talks to me when I'm asleep, 'Manda. She told me t' wake up and tell you or somebody, 'cos she can help him."

"You're crazy, Florrie--"

Florence stared for a second at Amanda. There was an almost audible camel's back snapping in her expression..

"I am _not_ crazy!" Florence shouted, stamping her foot. "She's real and I'm not crazy and she's on her way to help us and all and she's afraid he's gonna die before she gets here because she's gotta walk! You gotta 'Clone and you can get her an' I'm....not....crazy!" This last was said on the virtual edge of tears as she balled her tiny fists and started to ineffectually drum them on Amanda, who grabbed them tightly, wincing. Given the abuse her body had taken in the past few days, even Florence's weak punches hurt.

Amanda just had to stare at the crying girl, trying not to cry herself with a monumental effort. "Florrie, stop it--"

"I am NOT!" the child yelled. "I'm not crazy! If you don't help her, he's gonna die! I know where she is an' everything! I can _show_ you!"

Amanda kept holding onto the child's fists, not wanting to be pummeled again, the entire scene played out with nobody to witness it except themselves and the unconscious, dying Invid on the bed.

_This is a freaking fool's errand she wants me to go out on. High alert, Invid probably out in force, it's dark, freezing and I'm going on the ramblings of a little girl who wants me to meet her imaginary friend. Matt will kill me._

At the same time, with cold, clear clarity she knew that if she didn't and it was true, then Kevin would in a matter of a couple days at most so be entombed in the icy Illinois ground--and she would be the one directly responsible for it, even more than for his and Dennis's suicide run on the hive. And the thought made her sick.

The battle raged in her mind, while Florence snuffled convulsively.

Amanda let out a long, shuddering sigh.

"Okay. Get your stuff together."

oooooooooooooooooooo

She paced restlessly in an anteroom of the Orbital Hive, attempting to formulate the best way to go about this. She was still reeling from the shift to her state of being, and it was difficult at best to think coherently. Not as epochal a shift as the last time, but it still caused a great deal of problems keeping focused. And given those she was going to confront shortly, she _needed_ to find a good way to present things. She could feel with a brush of mind the fact most of them were already there, so she couldn't stall much longer.

Her brethren under her dead lord's rule had been gathered together. They had been equals, and as she'd suspected, many of them had been co-sufferers under Shkud's growing dementia.

And now she was no longer one of them, but something else, and no longer a colleague, but a ruler. She remembered what Shkud had been like, and had a suspicion that many of them had the same flinch reactions to him...and those like him.

This was going to be tricky.

Oryo'i closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with fingers in an unconsciously human gesture, grimacing. _And damn your dead soul, Shkud, for what you've left me._ The initial euphoria of her transmutation had dissolved and had left her with a unsettling feeling of just how far over her head she felt. And--she damned her humanoid form for the feelings--trepidation about what they were going to see when she entered the audience chamber. She was having problems with it herself.

With another grimace, she forced eyes open and made herself stare at the reflection in the dark, vitreous material of a currently unused screen.

The hair was still long and storm-white, the face more or less the same shape and recognizable if a bit more angular. She was noticeably taller, slenderer in proportion.

It was the eyes that shook her the most. They were no longer the rounded iris, pupil and sclera of a human's. Instead, the amber color of iris swallowed the visible eye, leaving nothing except for a vertically-slitted pupil, currently wide in the room's dimness. They were the eyes of something that she'd come to dread seeing over the past six years, reflexively tensed up at the mere sight of. They were the eyes of a Kulagi Invid.

And now, they were in her head.

Oryo'i murmured to herself, unconcerned about any overhearing, "One wonders what Asaav wants with me."

A quick mental check told her that they were starting to get apprehensive; there was no more point to stalling. She sighed.

Squaring her shoulders in the new armor reflecting her changed station, she turned for the door to the audience chamber and headed on through.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Mandy gritted her teeth against the bitter wind, trying to go as quickly as she could without dislodging Florence's arms around her waist. It was pitch black outside and threatening to snow. Between that and the rough terrain outside, Mandy had finally risked it and turned on the Cyclone's headlight, poor illumination though it was against the darkness.

_Matt is so going to kill me._

She shouted over the rumble of the engine, "You sure it's ahead?"

Florence, who was so bundled up it was a miracle she could move let alone hang onto Amanda, shouted "Yeah!"

"Hope you're right."

"I _am_," Florence responded petulantly.

"How much further?"

"Not real far!"

It'd been more than an hour. Amanda's fear for Kevin aside, she was also worried about other things. Hardly the least them included taking a minor out in the wilderness, in the freezing cold of December, with no plan, no clue, and any number of hostiles out here. It was the most sickeningly long hour of her recent life, and given recent events this said a lot. Granted, some of those other recent events were close seconds and thirds on the list.

And hell, how were they supposed to get Florence's Imaginary Friend back to base, anyway? Provided, of course, there was one. It'd be a tight fit on the Cyclone.

She was just doing this to appease the kid, anyway. Probably trying to get her own mind off the fact right now, Kevin was probably finishing dying back there. There wasn't anybody out here except bandits and a bunch of angry Invid. There certainly weren't any mysterious women sitting on rocks right....

..there....

Amanda slowed up and stopped, eyes bugging as Florence squealed, in unalloyed delight.

Florence was off the bike and running--well, waddling, toward the silhouetted figure that was rising off the boulder it was sitting on before Amanda had even thought to swing her leg over the Cyclone. The two impacted with a muffled thud of bodies and about eighteen layers of clothes between them, hugging as if they'd known each other all their lives. Meanwhile, Amanda continued gaping, sort of half leaning, half holding up the Cyclone and giving a rough impression of an A-frame house.

Florence was finally revealed from behind a curtain of improbably long silver hair as she was set down by the strange woman, who shook the mass back into place behind shoulders and around narrow, vaguely elfin features. Elfin in the J. R. R. Tolkien sense of the word, that was, not the cute perkiness the word 'elfin' usually conveyed. This face was much too high-boned for that, with exotically oblique eyes that were dark in the chancy light. It would be almost off-putting in its beauty, if it hadn't been warmed up by a smile of what seemed real joy and lined with equally real tension and weariness. Those marked it, made it seem more human. Plus, there was only so far 'etherial' could be carried when in a heavy parka, boots, and leggings, all of which had seen better days.

She turned to see Amanda and moved forward towards the thunderstruck girl, then 'acked' as Florence all but dragged her over by the hand she was still holding onto with a lamprey grip. Never mind she topped the young girl by a foot and nearly two and was taller than Amanda herself, she was dragged. Florence was meanwhile an interesting mix of overjoyed, defiant, and smug, and just about stomped over to Amanda, her 'prisoner' in tow.

"I told you she was real, 'Manda." The stranger blinked, flummoxed, then flicked eyes towards the heavens in a sacrificial move that would have had Amanda laughing if the situation had been any less grave.

"Right, right. Right, kiddo, I'm real. Maybe the rest of the world is an illusion, too. Never mind anybody who'd be a solipsist and make up this world would have serious mental problems." The voice matched the face and slender body, sweet wooden flute mezzo-soprano husked by fatigue. She extended a gloved hand. "I wish the circumstances were better. You're Amanda? I'm--"

"Gina," Florence interrupted with great definitiveness.

"I can introduce myself. Brat." Florence giggled.

Amanda took the hand, trying not to shake too limply. Even if her own hand was limp, the strange woman's grip was firm. In the stronger light from the Cyclone's headlamp, the eyes gained color, becoming a dark pine-needle shade of green. And the hair glittered. It wasn't the apathetic grey or white that was typically called silver, but seemed almost made out of the actual metal. It reminded Amanda of fine Christmas tinsel strands.

"I'm Amanda Pierson, yes," she said distantly. Gina nodded. "You're... Gina. Or are..."

"Gina will do for now," the other added firmly. She visibly shook herself, breath puffing out in a fog. Her voice sharpened. "And it better, because with what time we have to work with I don't want to have to explain later during a funeral. Let's go."

"What? How the hell are we going to ride--"

"Florence gets to be the filling in a people sandwich. Got a monomolecular knife?"

"Yes. What--?" The knife was snatched out of her hand, there was a swish, and the former mane of tinsel hair became much shorter, with the rest shoved into one of a collection of pouches dangling around her waist.

"Damn stuff never cuts properly," Gina said absently. She headed over to the Cyclone, Florence in tow. "I get shotgun."

Amanda paused a second, absolutely out of her depth and feeling her control of the situation hijacked, then shook her head. Later. If it saved Kevin, much later.

"...Right."

oooooooooooooooooooo

_"Where the fuck were you?"_

Amanda panted through the steam tunnels with her companions in tow a little over an hour later. She also tried to ignore the angry--and yes, frightened male voice that was coming after them. She'd been right about Matt's going ballistic. It was the first time she'd ever heard him swear like that.

"Sorry Lieutenant not now later I'm sorry will explain" she managed in a run-on. The Elms leader clunked angrily after them in full CVR, likely ready to throttle if there wasn't a child standing between himself and Amanda.

They'd been lucky that it hadn't been someone else who'd been on the outer perimeter waiting for them, though. Explaining things, especially with a stranger accompanying them, would have taken away critical time. Ulm might be pissed off at them, but at least he wasn't actively stopping them. Yet. He could kill her later, but as long as they were able to reach their destination now...

"Why the _hell_ did you bring Florence along?!" he demanded. They broke out of the tunnel into the library proper, Amanda exhaustedly trying to lurch ahead enough of Matthew to not be dragged back by him. After all, she had to show them the way. She didn't notice the interference both Florence and 'Gina' were covertly trying to run in between herself and the furious lieutenant.

"She _made_ me, God _damn_ it!" Amanda's voice broke. "She said she knew of a way and I had to try, because I didn't want to have to watch Kevin die because of my stupid--"

"_Gwen's_ stupid whatever," Ulm snapped, as the group tore across the floor.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"s'my fault," Florence said meekly, jogging--waddling--with and somehow keeping up with Gina's long strides through sheer application of the physical law that the shorter the child is, the more energy they will have.

"I'll pass the beatings around to me later," Gina muttered to herself. "Just so we all feel punished. Where is he...right, there." She sucked in a breath through teeth. "Damn, and he's...well."

Amanda's blood froze. "_What?_"

"Not dead yet, but give him another few hours and he will be. I'm not going to give 'em if I have any say."

"And what the hell are _you_?" Matthew demanded.

"What, you want the full story before I help your guy? I hope you got his casket ready," she snapped back. "Let's just say for now I don't want him to die, I don't want Florence hurt, and I'm not too set on seeing any of you hurt either. Fine? Fine. Interrogate me later, but let me save his life _now_."

There was a pause as they finally reached Kevin's room. The vital statistics that Amanda could translate were slower and weaker. Time was running out.

Matthew Ulm let out a long breath, following the triad in. Underneath the scraggy beard his face was aged more than even usual, eyes hollowed out by exhaustion and grief. With a pang of comprehension, Amanda realized just how badly Ulm himself was suffering, and just how much of it he was expressing it as anger.

"...Fine," he said quietly at last. "Do what you can. Whoever you are."

Gina was already at the bedside table, having tossed down her multitude of pouches. Her hacked hair shimmered in the monitor lights as she dug through them, getting out in turn a mortar, a pestle, and a large pile of leaves and petals.

Both Matthew and Amanda knew from long experience just what kind of foliage that was. From slavery, Florence likely did as well.

"The _hell_?"

Gina started crushing and mixing, pouring in something liquid. "I know, I know. You know how much of a pain it is to sneak onto a farm and rip them off? It's not a fun time. But I needed them before I even got here." She was rapidly reducing the Flower of Life parts to a thick green fibrous paste as she continued working them over with the pestle.

Ulm wet his lips.

"Will that...." he paused, "save him?"

Gina paused, even as her hands continued working. "In itself? No. But if I get him to swallow this, it's going to give his body a foundation to work with. It's still Invid enough for that. As for the healing itself? Well." She continued to crush, almost savagely. "That bit's going to have to be up to what _I_ do."

oooooooooooooooooooo

_Ignorance surrounding me _

_I've never been so filled with fear _

_All my life's been drained from me _

_The end is drawing near..._

--**Dream Theater, **"A Change of Seasons II: Innocence"

_Hello?_

_Is there anybody in there?_

_Just nod if you can hear me_

_Is there anyone at home?_

--**Pink Floyd,** "Comfortably Numb"

It was dark. It was warm. It was so much better than what was waiting for him outside.

He didn't float, because that would imply something for him to float in. There wasn't. But he existed, anyway. Sometimes he felt like he was in ceramic armor. Except what was 'ceramic' and what was 'armor'? He couldn't quite tell. He couldn't quite remember why he called what he was in the other times 'green' and 'canvas' or 'green' and 'CVR'. Especially the CVR. The notions popped in every so often, but they tended to wander around with nothing to connect to. He preferred it that way, because he had a vague notion that the other way meant remembering horrible, horrible things. He'd had too many of them. No more. It was nice here, and safe. And as things went on, he remembered less and less. He liked that too. Soon there wouldn't be enough of him to remember him what 'liked' meant. It was probably just as well.

So when the hand (hand? what was that?) reached out and tapped him on what he suddenly remembered was a shoulder, he didn't take this too well.

"Hey."

He ignored it and curled in tighter. Maybe it would go away.

It tapped him again, this time harder.

"_Hey._"

Go away, he said, and then realized that he was using a 'mouth' and 'tongue' and 'lips' to utter it. Or at least the notion of them. Somehow, he also knew they weren't the real things, just his memory of them. Memories were bad. If only this annoyance would go away, he could--

"Like hell, bucko. I've come too far now, and so have your friends. You do have them, you know."

"Get out of my head," he snarled. "Leave me _alone._" He turned his head, or well, the notion of it, dammit, there he went again, and glared at the intruder through a curtain of black bangs. Never mind there wasn't any light in here, that didn't seem important.

She stood, or hovered before him, a human figure, indistinct features, hoarfrost hair, and looked peevish. She was also completely upside down. This didn't seem to bother her any more than it did him.

"Nuh-uh." she said. "I can't do it."

"Leave me _alone_. I was fine. I was going to--"

"Die. You were going to die. I just kind of interrupted your groove."

He turned on her. "Maybe it'd have been for the best. I was..." He didn't want to remember. It was almost there and he didn't want to.

Her features softened. "I know. I wouldn't have wanted what happened to you on anybody. And you got it just for trying to do what was right. It's a bitch, taking Antigone's choice. I can't say I made the right one myself, in the past. I only wish I had your strength to be able to have done it.

"And taking the way out? Well." She paused a moment, or whatever passed for it in this realm. "I just know that if you do, you're going to hurt a lot of people important to you."

He snorted.

"They'll want me dead. If they know I'm--" Don't say anything. It'll help deny. You don't want to think that last bit, or it'll all come rushing in...

She nodded.

"You know something? I don't think a few of them give a damn. But they will if you go and leave. They'd rather have you as you are than as a memory of what they thought you were. If that makes sense. You want to do that to them?"

"It'd be better."

"Bull."

He was starting to get irritated. She was good at it; he only seldom got irritated, except by (blank) when he got pendantic, and then (blank) when he made snide comments about his relationship with (blank). Some part of him was waving frantically at the rest of him on this front. Unfortunately or fortunately for the rest of him, it was being pretty quiet as yet, so he continued getting irritated. But being irritated meant he kept remembering again.

He folded arms around himself--they were currently in that ceramic black and red and grey armor again, which annoyed him for even remembering the facts--and made an elaborate show of ignoring her. Maybe if he did, then he'd be able to go back to his prior state.

She reached out and yanked on his nose. He snarled at her again.

"Let me put it this way, I know what you are and I get a pretty good idea of who, too. Do you? Do you even know just why you're here anymore?"

"I'm--" _screamspainrazorslaughinglaughingPAINcrieswailsoblivionsilence_ "GAHHHH! No, damn you, let me _go_!" Fingers clawed on green metal as he tried to go fetal. "It was better that way! I don't want to remember!"

She pulled at his arms, pulled him out of his curl with implacable force that wasn't physical, snarling in his face. "No it's _not_, you idiot. I know it's not good, hell, I _know_ it's not good, but it's a fucking sight better than this! Are you going to back out and leave Amanda and Matthew now?

"And I'm damned if I'm going to let that impact on Florence any more because of what you'll do to Amanda if you kick off. Do you want to talk about Hell? Really? Florence is my main girl. The kid has kept _me_ sane here. And she's been through more hell than you can _dream_ of being through, even now. We're all in it together, buddy boy. So either you remember and you come back and **live** of your own free will, or I drag your scrawny ass out of here by force. I'm just trying to be nice, right now, but desperation makes us do funny things, doesn't it? You know. I know, too. You're not a goddamn cell in the Invid overmind anymore. You matter. Six degrees of seperation and all that, so no, dying is _not_ going to make it better!"

Deep green, slanted eyes boring into his mind, his soul, asking him a question he knew the answer to. Several questions, and several answers, all in one.

Names. Matthew. Amanda. Florence. Invid. Amanda again.

Something blazed through him. He answered.

I am--

_I Am._

His eyelids shot straight open, and then wished they hadn't, as the pain and exhaustion came in. And so did the light, lancing through needlelike to his retinas. He shut them again, fast. It wasn't that bright, on recollection; it just felt like it.

I'm me.

His body pounded, as if a thunderstorm supercell had been channeled through it, but he no longer hurt like...before.

I am Kayagh, Solugi prince of the Invid and traitor.

I'm Kevin O'Shea, First Scout of Ulm's Elms, resistance fighter.

I'm Matthew Ulm's friend. Miranda Altman's friend. Amanda Pierson's friend. And there's others. Even Gerald. Or is it Gur'uld? Not sure. Not a friend, but closer than in some ways. History, and all...

I'm alive.

I don't know if I'm happy or sad about that yet.

oooooooooooooooooooo

She stared at nothing for quite a long while afterward, after the last of them had left. The audience chamber of the Orbital Hive was now empty except for her, and silent except for air circulators. It seemed emptier, somehow.

They'd been quite attentive, yes, eyes wide on her every move, gesture, and word. They'd nodded agreeably when she stated what had happened, what led her and them to this pass, what their new objectives were, their changed duties now that she was in charge. All very proper and reverent, never mind that a matter of days ago she'd been a persecuted member of their number, outcast because none of them wanted their lord's ill will communicated to them through association with her.

She knew just why they were so respectful.

She hated every second of it.

Oryo'i seated herself on the edge of the dais and rested her face in her hands, letting out a very, very long breath.

They weren't doing it out of respect. They were doing it out of fear.

She knew it. If she had been in their place, she would have done precisely the same thing. It was absolutely compulsory when having to deal with Shkud; staying on the good side of his temper had been like trying to sneak through a Human town laden with resistance snipers. And when one got on the _bad_ side of it... She knew what that was like, too.

She would have preferred honest respect so much more. And she'd never felt more alone.

Even now, Shkud's touch reached beyond death, Mother of the Hive blast him.

"I hope you're happy, you trahl," she muttered to his ghost.

She looked up sharply, when her amplified senses picked up movement from the chamber's entranceway. "Who's there?"

There was definite movement. In a moment its source pulled itself into better view, some slight apprehension radiating.

She made it out, her feline eyes widening.

"Iagur?"

The male Solugi nodded a bit. "Am I interrupting anything?" He paused. "My Lady."

Oryo'i must have visibly winced at the title; he shut his mouth and said nothing more, but at least...at _least..._ he didn't do the abused flinch she recognized so well, knew why, and hated. She probably could not have endured that; Iagur had been one of the colleagues she had worked with while she was still in Shkud's good graces, and he had still taken the pains to relate to her in recent times regardless of the possible impact on him. He had been, as close as the Invid had any understanding of the term, a friend.

Oryo'i let out a long sigh.

"No. No, you were not. Did you need something, So..." She did a long pause, "Iagur?" She closed her lips painedly.

Iagur walked further back into the room, slowly, the dim light glinting off sleek, deep-brown hair and green and black combat armor. He said after a moment, "If you have no objection to not calling me by my caste, I don't." He paused a second. "Oryo'i. If I may still call you that?"

Oryo'i looked around, then back at him, and said quietly, "If you have no objections, I certainly don't. Save it for privacy though. I have...." her lips twisted in a bitter smile, "_standards_ to maintain." She closed her eyes a second. "Did you need something?"

Iagur moved closer, stopping a respectful distance away, and just looking at her. While his hair color was a Humanly mundane shade, his eyes were not; they were a deep, vivid iridescent shade of green-blue that reminded Oryo'i of the plumage of some Earthen tropical birds. He visibly thought a moment, before responding.

"Not so much for myself but..." he fumbled, "as for concern for you, and how you were accepting this change to your nature and station."

"Afraid I'll turn into another Shkud, Solugi Iagur?" she said with some bitterness. She couldn't help it; the bitterness and hurt leaked across to him, and this time he did flinch, visibly. He then recovered, though, and gained the courage to move a bit closer.

"_No_," he responded as he leaned forward, some heat coming to his own voice. "My own welfare is not an issue. But I know what he did to you and to others of us--to me--and I _know_ that you can't have taken this change well, given that. I'm sure the conclave just now didn't help. But I remember Solugi Oryo'i, and somehow I'm not convinced that Kulagi Oryo'i would emulate that which hurt her. I wanted..." He trailed off, searching for words.

Oryo'i blinked, and quite unconsciously sent a probe lancing into his thoughts. She didn't even need to use force behind it; his thoughts were as transparent to her as her own, as he willingly allowed her in. She was staggered a bit.

All she saw there was concern for her, need to aid her...a little fear, but that was nearly drowned out by understanding and trust. And all her physical eyes saw on his oh-so-human features was an expression that mirrored that.

"...Why?" she managed.

He fumbled. "Because. I remember who you were. And I'm sure _are_, still."

"I'm not so sure of that," she said feebly, looking down at her interlaced fingers. Stupid, stupid, she was supposed to be expressing her authority, not be struck into fumbling like a human child, what was wrong with her?

His baritone was firm. "Then I'll... be sure for you. If you don't mind."

"You don't?"

"No."

"I.... " She said after a moment, "Thank you, Iagur."

Iagur nodded, his lips curving up a little. "Good, then."

Oryo'i nodded.

Iagur thought a second. "I....do admit to some curiosity, however."

Oryo'i straightened up, curious herself. "On what?"

"Why you were the one elevated to Kulagi in Shkud's place, and not another Solugi that was more in his....good graces." Oryo'i couldn't help but smile; Iagur's tone was definitely conveying that especially in recent times there hadn't been such a thing. She then parsed his question and the smile then faded away into a tightening of her lips.

"I don't know, Iagur. I truly don't. I fully expected to be de-evolved for my role in his death, Miragai's, the hive's and letting the Humans escape in the process." _And Kayagh_, she said to herself. Though after what he'd endured, she couldn't believe he'd have survived all that long. She hoped, for his and her sake. "I didn't expect Lady Asaav to be instrumental in elevating me to the Twenty-Four. And why, after all that? I don't know. I just don't." The bones of her hands showed clearly through the skin as she clenched them together. "She...was making overtures to me before this all happened. You know...to transfer me to her service. But Shkud refused. Again why? I...don't know."

Iagur nodded.

"Oryo'i?"

"Yes?"

"What do you want me and the other Solugi to do if in fact you do....end up going Shkud's way? Not that I expect you to, mind." He said this with absolute sincerity, no sense of self-preservation or covering up a _faux pas _to his voice.

Oryo'i looked down at her hands again. She'd clenched them together so tightly that the nails had broken through the skin, leaving dark-green fluid leaking a bit through smarting cuts. She winced and with a moment's concentration healed the wounds. She was going to have to learn to control her own strength, she thought glumly. Something to take in account, now, along with everything else.

What if she became the same raving psychotic _he'd_ turned into, so bloated on power she had no sense of reality or connection to the Hivesong anymore, so drunken with herself she'd happily torture one of her own kind, no matter how traitorous? What if she forgot her entire purpose for being here, eschewing Regis for her own goals?

As for Asaav, she owed her her status and station. But there was that small, Shkud-trained voice that told her to watch, be careful....

She sighed again and looked up at the Solugi, patiently waiting for her answer.

"Iagur?" she said. "_Run."_

oooooooooooooooooooo

Dennis Zinnert rubbed at his eyes. It didn't help the feeling of grit that now seemed to be a permanent feature in them. When was the last time he had slept, really slept? Before he took on the hive? Maybe a few stolen moments in the tunnels? He could no longer remember. "Burst transmissions completed?"

The tech nodded. An ashen-faced Shiroikiku Doi nodded, seconding. "As much as we could get out, given we're in deep shit, Lieutenant. I know it was confirmed by at least Rantoul, so the Riders at least have the information. They'll pass it along."

"Good," Dennis said firmly, then an involuntary stretch and yawn hit him. He checked the time. By now insipid winter dawn light would be starting to leak through the windows of the sunken library courtyard. Never mind technically it wasn't the Terran northern winter solstice yet; cold meant winter. It was one of the little things he'd come to learn during his years groundside.

"So, Dennis," Sherry said conversationally. "When the fuck are you going to get some rest?"

"Not yet, Corporal," he answered, a sparkle of defiance reaching his eyes. "Not yet. This information is too important to not get out, and I damned well _am_ going to get it out hell or high water."

"I ain't dragging you back to your cot if you keel over. Just to let you know." Dennis fought off an involuntary giggle of fatigue. The image of diminutive five foot nothing Sherry lugging his nearly two meter self was completely hysterical at the moment.

"I don't give a damn, Doi. Get it out in Morse Code encoded."

"Riiiiiiiight."

"Don't give me lip, Corporal."

"I can give you as much fucking lip as I want, right now." The tech in the background meanwhile rolled his eyes and started to convey the information at hand in Morse. It was now mostly the REF and related resistance these days that remembered the old Morse communications, but for safety's sake it was still conveyed in one of the several common codes used by the resistance to avoid Invid sympathizers casually tapping in. He knew them, and while the two Elms core members bickered, he did his own job. He started to tap away...

URGENT URGENT URGENT ULMS ELMS TRANSMISSION INVID HIVE NEAR OLD LAFAYETTE DESTROYED INVID LEADER KILLED NEW FORM OF INVID FOUND LEADER CASTE HOSTILE VERY POWERFUL DOCUMENTED ABILITIES AS FOLLOWS...

oooooooooooooooooooo

"It's all I can do," the woman calling herself 'Gina' said softly. She wrapped her fingers around a mug of tea, not entirely disguising the shake to her hands.

Matthew stared at her.

"Run that by me again?"

Gina looked down at her drink, exhaustion showing on the classic features. "The rest is up to him now. I can't do anything more about his injuries. There's... the psychosomatic thing going on. I don't know how _well_ he's gonna heal. Just that.... he will. You dig?"

Matthew parsed that, then nodded, trying not to disturb Amanda, who had done a slow-motion fall over onto him as she nodded off to sleep.

"I dig enough." He paused, and looked over at the figure on the bed. "The damage was more than just to the body."

Gina sighed.

"Yeah. 'Fraid so."

Matthew pressed his lips together, hazel eyes flat and glittering. "You know? Speaking as a fairly open-minded member of my species, able to accept a lot of weird crap going on and be flexible and liberal up to and including my choice of squad members? I'm glad that that son of bitch is dead."

He did a quick paranoid glance at Florence, who had used Gina as her own pillow and was clutching her like a nearly six-foot-tall teddy bear. A teddy bear with some disturbingly feminine contours that reminded Matthew he himself despite his facade and age was a heterosexual male, but... he ended that line of thought before fatigue made off with it in directions he didn't want to think about. But Florence was asleep too, and more restfully than he'd have thought.

Gina's voice was hissing and vicious. "I'm just really glad the 'son of a bitch' got it so poetically." The pine-green eyes were slits.

Matthew looked again at the bed's sleeping occupant.

Sleeping. Not catatonic. Not comatose. Not dying. _Sleeping._

Kevin had opened his eyes, after Gina had closed her eyes and sunk into some sort of trance for a few minutes, after she had all but poured that... Flower mush down his throat. His body had jolted, and the pale blue eyes had flown open all of a sudden, not quite seeing the room.

But that one look into them was all Matthew had needed to see.

Oh, they'd been open before since the hive had gone up, but they'd been unfocused and glassy, nothing more behind them than behind a doll's. But that time....

That time, Matt once again saw _Kevin_ within them.

He saw him in there even as they slid closed again and Kevin's body relaxed, even as the winding-down vital signs all of a sudden surged again into something healthier and more stable, as the black bruising on his face faded away into slight marring and darkening under his skin... and who knew what had happened under the bandaging. Matthew hadn't checked yet. He was afraid to check. Whether it was because of what he would find or not find, he was too sleep-deprived to figure out yet.

Gina had gasped and sagged, almost falling. Amanda was right next to her, but so maniacally focused on whatever she'd herself seen happen with Kevin she'd been of no help. It was a good thing the stranger hadn't fallen, given that.

He swigged down more tea in the now, staring at her.

"Okay," he said.

"Mnh?" She rubbed hands over the scarf now covering her tinsel-colored hair, heels of her palms pressed to her temples in rhythmic circles. He watched her.

"I owe you my First Scout's life. I'll have to make sure to pay up to the best under my power. That little issue aside, as commanding officer of Ulm's Elms, let me be blunt. Who the hell _are_ you, lady?"

Gina paused in mid-rub as she heard the question, her dark green eyes slanting up under gleaming lashes to meet an utterly exhausted, utterly drained, utterly stubborn expression under the mangy beard and the receding hairline. Matthew's eyes had taken on a flinty cast.

He kept staring at her, until she started to shift uncomfortably. Florence protested softly, and she stilled, her eyes softening as she made a show of straightening the girl's dark curls.

"I suppose that I can't beg off the question until later?"

Matthew said flatly, "Like hell. I have the entire group on high-level red alert, the Invid after us with a vendetta, an Alpha torn up, my best sharpshooter gone, two people traumatized, a third who came a hair from dying, and at least one raving Invidophobe and probably more who will be gunning for that third the second the news is widespread that he's Invid. That's the easy stuff. I don't want to even _think_ about what knowing Kevin's race is going to do for the Elms's morale and cohesion in the face of all this, or my authority over them. If you think I'm going to let _you_ in after all that with a hand wave not even knowing what you are, you're nuts."

She looked at him directly then. "Right. Long version, short version, or the one where I use the Powerpoint presentation with the bright shiny colors?"

"The wha?"

"...Never mind." Gina sighed. She thought. "You know about Genesis Pits, right? And what the Invid did to prisoners?"

Ulm arched his eyebrows, nodding wordlessly.

"I'm... one of them. I'm what happens when the Invid get the bright idea of seeing what you can do to a human to make them emulate some of their more... exotic powers. And what happens when the subject says 'screw this' and manages to bust out by use of deviousness and main force. I've been on the run since. Since." She looked down at the sleeping Florence. "I think what happened to her did a little of the same to her too. Just a guess. It's... how I managed to contact her. I held off her nightmares, she held off any insanity waiting to happen to me. I've been kind of working this direction for a long time now, trying not to let the Invid find me, but finding out the whole bit a few days ago stepped it up. That good for starters?"

"And how do I know that's not a cover story by a simulagent trying to work in after all this?" Matthew's voice was dead even. The woman's eyes flickered with frustration, quickly repressed.

"Florrie's corrobation won't help?"

"Not a hell of a lot. Not with this group. A lot of them look funny at her anyways as is. And she's a seven year old kid. Kids can be deceived."

Gina snorted. "And how long have you been fooling the so-called adults about your friend the Solugi, huh?"

"A few years. So yeah, gullible isn't a function of height. Your point?"

Gina growled softly, looking as if were it not for the child sleeping on her she'd be on the verge of leaving. "My _point_ being, I saved your friend's life. I risked my ass doing that, big time. My _point_ is, I've got little reason to enjoy having the Invid on my case, either. My other point is, right now, you're in a damn tight situation right now, as you said, with the Invid probably ready to breathe down your neck given you just sent up a hive and one of their leaders, and a dearth of manpower. I can _help_ you with that, damn it. I know how. And if you're so damn worried--" Her knife was suddenly out, flashing in the monitor lights. Ulm froze, Amanda starting to slide off of him as he tensed.

He then saw the blade do a quick, surgical, slicing cut across the pad of one long finger, as Gina sucked in a hissing breath. She then slapped her hand down upon her knee, palm up, where he could see. Blood dripped off the end of her left ring fingertip, making a muted _plap_ as it splatted on the ground.

Amanda grunted, resettled herself on Ulm, and went back to sleep in the meantime, completely ignorant.

"Well, how's them apples?" Gina said tightly.

Matthew looked from finger to ground, seeing the dark--but definitely red--wet splotch below her hand.

"You want a band-aid for that?" he asked mildly.

Gina grunted and nodded.

Ulm handed her one from his kit, then leaned back as she blotted and bandaged the cut.

"So. What evidence I see posts you as human. And faith. I guess I'm going to have to stretch everybody's quota of it a little more to take you in on it, given all this other crap."

Gina stared back at him. "Looks like."

Matthew Ulm's eyes were lidded, with weariness and assessment. "Time to invoke Murphy's Law. 'How much worse could it get?'"

oooooooooooooooooooo

Frederick Bohms finished getting torso armor off of his body, then accepted a mug of something hot, steaming, and unidentifiable from Gerald Wilson, who himself hadn't looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a while and had the fifty-yard stare to prove it. Bohms swigged and didn't care what the unidentifiable was, as long as it was hot. It was going to be a bitter, miserable night.

"Hey."

"Hey," Wilson grunted back. "Nothing?"

Bohms shook his head. "Nope. No nothing. The only thing I got on patrol was my nose losing all feeling."

Wilson nodded his shaggy head. "I'll take it. Won't last forever, but I'll take it."

"Right." Bohms left and slouched for the impromptu barracks, desperate for some sleep.

Wilson watched him go, his lips a white line, and followed, leaving the rest of the night mechanical crew to finish the turnover to the day shift.

There would be whispers soon. The medics would be talking, if nothing else.

He'd have to figure out what to do when the information leaked out, if it wasn't moot by then.

He didn't know, yet.

Yet.


End file.
